Salvation
by Abigail Esss
Summary: In reward for his role in the Red Wedding, Lord Bolton was given the North but he was also given something else from the Lannisters: Sansa Stark. If you don't like this pairing, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: In reward for his role in the Red Wedding, Lord Bolton was given the North but he was also given something else from the Lannisters: Sansa Stark.**

 **A.N: This was inspired by another Roose and Sansa fanfiction that made me ship these two.**

 **Lord Bolton and Walda Frey did not marry in this. Instead, the Lannisters promised Sansa to Lord Bolton if he went through with the Red Wedding.**

The sun gently streamed through the gap in the curtains casting flecks of gold across the room causing Sansa to slowly rouse from her slumber. Sighing, she turned over in an attempt to drift back to sleep. It wasn't to be though as Shae hastily entered the room, walked over to the window and opened the curtains allowing even more sunlight to filter into the room. Sansa sighed again before opening her eyes.

"I'm sorry, my lady… some men arrived this morning… and Her Grace wishes to see you…"

"Which men?" Sansa asked, climbing out of the bed and pulling on her robe.

"They had the sigil of the flayed man… which house is that again?" Sansa snapped her head to face Shae. Why would Lord Bolton have sent men to Kings Landing when he was aiding Robb in his fight against the Lannisters? Unless they were here to offer Robb's surrender and the war would finally be over.

"Are you sure you saw Lord Bolton's men?"

"Quite sure…" She confirmed picking up Sansa's dress

"How strange…" Sansa replied. It was very strange.

Before long, Sansa had washed, dressed and eaten and was walking through the Red Keep to the Queen Regent's chambers. Apprehension took hold of her. What could the Cersei possibly want with her at this hour? Unless Robb had surrendered and Cersei wanted to gloat. But if Robb had surrendered why wasn't he here? Why hadn't _he_ come to ask to be pardoned by Joffrey, not that Sansa trusted Joffrey to do so. It didn't make any sense. Unless Robb didn't want to be pardoned by Joffrey. But then why would Lord Bolton's men and possibly Lord Bolton be here? She was so confused. Sighing, she stopped outside of Cersei's door. The guard knocked and announced her before opening to door to Cersei's solar. Hesitantly, Sansa walked in.

"Little Dove, take a seat…" The Queen Regent said gesturing to the seat opposite her. Sansa did as she was told. "You must be wondering why I asked to see you…"

"Yes, your grace…" she swallowed.

"I have some news for you…" Sansa looked up to meet the woman's gaze suddenly overcome with a sense of dread. "Well two pieces really…" Again, Sansa swallowed. "We have some guests… from Lord Bolton…" She frowned. So Lord Bolton himself wasn't here. "They brought a letter from Lord Bolton…" Sansa's heart was thumping in her chest, she was sweating. Cersei was going to tell her that Robb had surrendered. "It seems there was an attack on your brother, mother and brother's men at the twins where they were attending your uncle's wedding."

"An attack?"

"Yes, your mother and brother are dead… killed by Lord Bolton and Lord Frey." The words began playing on repeat in Sansa's head. They were dead. Lord Bolton had betrayed her brother, his king. Inside she was screaming, every fibre of her being hurting. But she didn't react.

"They were traitors." She stated and Cersei blinked at her in shock. The girl had just been told that the final members of her family had been killed and there was no display of emotion from her, none at all. "The other news, your grace?" Sansa asked not wanting to think about Robb and her mother, if she thought about it, her mask would slip.

"Ah yes… you might like this…" Cersei began. "You're returning to the North…"

Sansa frowned. "I am?"

"Yes. Lord Frey and Lord Bolton broke guest right on my father's orders and in return, Lord Frey will get the Riverlands. Lord Bolton gets Winterfell and is the new warden of the north." Sansa's mouth dropped. "To strengthen his claim… Lord Bolton also gets you. That's why his men are here, to take you to him." Cersei gloated. It took all of Sansa's strength to not react to Cersei's words.

"When… when are we to leave?" She asked, not really caring for the answer but not knowing what else to say.

"As soon as your things are packed. I hear Lord Bolton wants to be married as soon as possible. Congratulations Little Dove, you are finally going home…"

Sansa smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm looking forward to it. Perhaps you might excuse me so I can oversee my packing."

"Certainly… I think Lord Bolton's men want to depart after the mid-day meal." Sansa nodded, stood up and left the room. It wasn't until she got back to her own room that she finally allowed herself to feel, allowed herself to grieve. And grieve she did. As soon as the door closed behind her, she collapsed in a heap on the floor, the built up tears flowing freely. They were all gone, she was the only one left. The last Stark of Winterfell. Well, for now anyways. They had taken everything from her: her pride, her dignity, her freedom and before long, they would take her name too. The honourable Stark would be replaced with the traitorous Bolton. He had killed her brother and now she had to marry him. Yet again she was a mere pawn in the great game.

 _Oh gods, she would have to share a bed with him._ A sob escaped her lips at the thought. How was she supposed to marry the man that had betrayed her family and killed her brother?

 _You will do it because it is your duty._ The voice of her mother echoed around the room. The tears stopped and her body went numb. _Duty?_ She laughed. It was duty that got her into this situation. It was her father's duty to his king that found her betrothed to Joffrey. It was duty to her Joffrey that resulted in her father's death which started the war that resulted into her brother and mother's death. And now it was duty that would see her married to the traitor and murderer that was Lord Bolton. Duty that would see her carry his children. She felt sick. There had to be a way out. She could escape once they were on the road, couldn't she?

Shae returned to the room sometime later to find Sansa still sat on the floor.

"My lady, what is it? Is it your marriage? They sent me to pack your things… I'm sure it won't be that bad… and you get to go home…away from Joffrey."

"My mother and brother are dead, murdered by my future husband… well my brother anyway, I don't know who killed my mother."

"My lady, I'm so sorry for your loss." She took Sansa's hand and pulled her to her feet. "But for now, you need to bury your grief somewhere deep within. You will avenge their deaths and all the wrongs that have been done to you but for now, you need to get ready to leave Kings Landing." Sansa nodded, Shae was right, she would avenge their deaths. "At least you're going home…" That was also true. Sansa had for so long now wished to return to Winterfell and now she would as Lady Bolton, Lady of the Dreadfort and Wardeness of the North. _She was going home._

When Sansa finally made her way out into the courtyard, she was greeted by a whole host of men, fifty perhaps. When Cersei had told her that Lord Bolton had sent men for her, she was expecting a dozen or so, not anywhere near as many as there was standing in front of her. Could this be a sign that he wanted to keep her safe? No, he just wanted to make sure she was delivered to him and not lost or kidnapped somewhere along the Kings Road. Fifty men would make it very difficult to escape if she was still going through with _that_ plan. She hadn't quite decided either way so for now, she was doing what was expected of her.

"My lady, I'm Ser Banefort... Captain of the Guard. Lord Bolton sent us to escort you to him at the Dreadfort." The man at the front of the host informed her. He had a stern face and spoke with conviction. Beside him, Sansa noticed was a horse without a rider. Did they expect her to ride all the way to the Dreadfort? She was not that confident of a rider, no that was Arya's area of expertise she mused. On the other side was Tyrion, he smiled at her.

"The Dreadfort? Forgive me sir but I thought we would be going to Winterfell."

"No, not yet. It is still being rebuilt under Lord Bolton's instructions." So the Winterfell she would return to, was her not home after all. She sighed. Well at least she was leaving Kings Landing.

"Good luck Little Dove..." Cersei said from behind Sansa. Her, Joffrey and some of the court had come to say farewell to the last Stark as she returned to the North, no less a prisoner than she had been in the capital. "Remember what I taught you."

Sansa nodded. "Goodbye your grace." Next it was Joffrey's turn.

"It is fitting that you should marry the man who killed your brother... there's something quite beautiful about it."

"Goodbye your grace." She repeated, her words void of emotion. Then she turned her back and aided by the stable hand mounted the horse provided for her. With one last look at her captors, Sansa Stark departed the Red Keep and Kings Landing.

It was a hard ride and Sansa struggled to keep up with the pace of Ser Banefort at the front of the men. Instead, more often than not she found herself in the middle next to Shae and Lord Tyrion. They too were finding it difficult.

"Boy these men are fun..." Tyrion remarked and Sansa giggled.

"What do you expect they are Lord Bolton's men, he's not exactly a man associated with fun." Shae replied before her eyes fell upon Sansa and she realised her mistake. "Forgive me, my lady."

"Why? You were being honest." Sansa shrugged. "There's no point pretending that my future husband is something he isn't."

They rode in silence for a little while before Sansa spoke again. "Lord Tyrion, why are you here?"

"I'm delivering a message from my sister…"

"So you're not responsible for me?"

"No, that is the job of the men your _betrothed_ sent."

"So… if I was to escape, it would not be your job to find me?"

"Lady Sansa whilst it would not be my job, I must advise against it. These men would find you and would have to inform Lord Bolton. I can't imagine he would take kindly to his bride trying to run away." Tyrion answered. "I know he killed your brother, I know that the thought of marrying him makes you feel sick and you will never forgive him for what he did but my lady, it could be worse. It could be the King." Tyrion was right but that still didn't stop her from considering it. Besides if Lord Bolton knew he had an unwilling bride perhaps he would put a stop to the whole thing. That was if they found her of course. If she escaped once night had fallen, it would be first light before they realised that she was missing, she would be quite far by then. Lord Bolton's men would have horses, she reasoned but if she travelled on foot all night, it would be some time before they caught up with her. Jon was at Castle Black, if she stayed on the Kings Road, she would end up there. He would protect her, wouldn't he? And so it was decided. She would attempt it. What did she have to lose? She had already lost her family and her freedom and after what Joffrey had done to her, she could take any punishment Lord Bolton inflicted on her if she was found.

They stopped just before nightfall and set up camp. Sansa was given her own tent which was guarded by Ser Banefort and another man who she had not be introduced to. Sometime after supper, Tyrion entered her tent, poured himself a glass of wine and took a seat opposite her.

"Here's what we are going to do…" He said and Sansa frowned. "I will spook the horses and let a few go free. In the time that your tent is unguarded, you will run. Shae will get into bed and pretend to be you. She will then, in the morning enter your tent 'discover' you missing and report it."

"Why are you helping me?" Sansa asked.

"Because I was reminded of all the pain my family has put you through and I don't think it is fair for that to continue." Tyrion confessed without a trace of dishonesty.

"Thank you."

"Right, I will do it now, make sure the tent is unguarded and run!" He stood up and walked to the flap of the tent before wishing her a goodnight. Sansa smiled, touched by his helping.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang followed by the neighing of horses and the shouts of men. Sansa peered out the tent. There was no-one in sight. Without thinking, she pulled her cloak around her shoulders and ran. She kept running until her legs would go no further and then she stopped. She sat down against a tree, closed her eyes and slept.

It was nearly first light when Sansa heard the sound of horses' hooves in the distance. They had discovered her missing earlier than Tyrion had planned. Frantically, she stood up and ran. She didn't know where she was going nor did she care, she just had to get away. Sansa could hear the horses closer now and the sound of men talking. Her heart was thumping. What should she do? She wasn't so how much further she could run before her legs gave in. She could hide. Rapidly, Sansa climbed into the hedgerow. Then she waited.

"We can't return to the Dreadfort without her…" Ser Banefort said after someone had commented that it was pointless. "Lord Bolton will flay us all." Sansa held her breath. She closed her eyes and prayed silently. The horses went past. She let out the held breath and opened her eyes. Tyrion was directly in her vision, shaking her head, mouthing at her to stay where she was. She nodded.

"Perhaps we should accept that we've lost her?" He suggested to the men in front of him. Suddenly, a branch snapped. It wasn't Sansa but she froze anyway as did Tyrion. There noise hadn't come from near Sansa but as the men looked around to see where it had come from, one of them noticed Sansa. He rode up to Tyrion to was the closer man to him and whispered "I've found her."

"You've found her?" Tyrion exclaimed loudly. "Where?" but it was no use. Sansa was surrounded, she couldn't escape now. The rest of the men were now aware of her hiding place and proceeded to dismount. Tyrion stopped them.

"Let me, she might come of her own accord that way." Ser Banefort agreed. Tyrion dismounted, climbed into the hedgerow and sat beside Sansa.

"I'm sorry, my lady. They checked on you early than I thought they would."

"What happens now?" Sansa asked.

"You have to return willingly or they will use force. I will make sure that they don't tell Lord Bolton."

"Thank you." She said and stood up before making her way out of her hiding place. Tyrion followed her. Once again. Sansa was back in the hands of her captors.

The rest of the journey consisted of fast riding over difficult terrain. Ser Banefort was determined to not arrive at the Dreadfort later than expected. Especially when Tyrion had persuaded the men not to tell their lord about Sansa's escape attempt; he had told them that Lord Bolton would blame them for it and he did not want to be in their shoes when Lord Bolton found out. That had been enough to swear them to secrecy much to Sansa's annoyance initially. Then she realised that Lord Bolton would probably go through with the wedding regardless of her approval or consent and she did not want to be punished for trying to escape.

On the fifteen day since leaving Kings Landing, the travelling party came into view of the Dreadfort. Sansa shivered. In the days following her attempted escape she had forced herself to forget about Lord Bolton and her impending marriage but now that the Dreadfort was in sight, the reality of it all washed over her. She felt sick.

"My lady perhaps, you should go to the front?" Tyrion suggested and she nodded weakly.

"I've sent a rider on ahead to let Lord Bolton know that we are here…" Ser Banefort informed her as she joined him at the front of the host. She nodded in response, not sure of what she was supposed to say to him.

Before long, they were riding through the gates of the Dreadfort. Sansa's mouth was dry and her hands were shaking. Ser Banefort led her through into the courtyard. She saw him. Lord Bolton. The traitor and murderer.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N: Sansa might seem a bit OOC in this chapter but remember she's grieving and she's not in King's Landing anymore so is actually able to grieve properly.**

Chapter 2

"Lady Sansa…" Roose Bolton said as the horses came to a stop in front of him. A smile formed on his lips. It had been many years since he had last seen Sansa Stark and in that time she had grown very attractive. There was a defiant expression present on her face as she studied him. He smirked, this was going to an interesting challenge.

"Lord Bolton…" She replied after several moments of silence. He walked up to her horse, offering her assistance to get down but she rejected his offer dismounted herself and walked into the castle without another word.

Roose raised an eyebrow, his cold gaze cutting through Tyrion but Tyrion wasn't fazed.

"My dear sister has a way with words… she told Lady Sansa about your role in the Red Wedding." Tyrion spoke not caring whether he insulted Lord Bolton or not. He wasn't afraid of the Kingslayer. Instead, he walked past him into the castle. Roose sighed. The interesting challenge had just become difficult. Lord Bolton did not care whether Sansa Stark liked him, their marriage was political after all but he did want her to actually go through with it. Judging by her defiant look, there was no guarantee that she would but she had arrived at the Dreadfort, knowing her fate when she did. Although, if the expressions on his men's faces where anything to go by, it had not been an easy journey. He would ask Ser Banefort later if it had gone smoothly. For now, his interest lay with his beautiful and wilful bride. She was not what he was expecting; Cersei had told him that she was obedient, stupid and easily manipulated. The girl that arrived at his castle today was not obedient and he was beginning to wonder whether she was as stupid and easily manipulated as Cersei had said.

Sansa was stood in the great hall when he arrived, she had her back to him but he sensed from her body language that she wasn't entirely sure what to do. He watched for a few more moments before he approached her.

"My lady, perhaps you might like to rest before dinner… no doubt your journey was tiring." He suggested. She slowly turned her head to him but didn't answer. "Or a tour?" Still she said nothing.

Tyrion sighed at the exchange between Sansa and Roose. The Lord of the Dreadfort was trying but Sansa was too consumed with grief and hatred that any attempts by Lord Bolton to do anything were futile.  
"Perhaps my lady, you should get some rest..."Tyrion suggested. "The journey was very tiring." She turned to him this time and she nodded.  
"Yes, I will..." Sansa finally spoke. Roose narrowed his eyes. "You're correct, Lord Tyrion, the journey was tiring."

Witnessing the exchange both in confusion and was that jealousy he felt, Lord Bolton instructed one of the maids to show Sansa to her room. Still Sansa said nothing to him.

Frustrated, he left the hall. He had expected Sansa to be annoyed when she found out, he was her brother but Cersei had reassured him that she would do her duty. She was a Tully after all. Annoyed Roose went in search of Ser Banefort. He wanted to know how the journey had gone but more importantly, he wanted to know how Sansa had been and why his men looked so weary upon arriving. He sensed there was a story behind it.

"My lord?" The man in front of him asked. Roose raised his eyebrows.

"Ser Banefort, I believe you understand my meaning and your hesitation to answer raises even more questions…"

"The journey was fine, my lord."

"And Lady Sansa?" Roose continued, the guard stared blankly at him. "Was she as aloof as she is now?"

"No, she engaged in conversation with Lord Tyrion and the maid. They even had a few jokes I believe at my expense." So it was him that she was ignoring.

"Is she close to the maid?"

"I believe so…" That would have to change once they were married or perhaps before. He needed servants that he could trust and if Sansa and the maid were close, it would mean that he couldn't buy her loyalty. Sansa was the last surviving Stark and the key to the North; he needed to know what she was doing, who with and what she was saying to whom. Sansa could challenge his claim to the North and he would not allow that to happen.

"And Lord Tyrion?"

"I think he is the only Lannister that she likes…"

"Interesting… and there is nothing that I need to know about?" There a small flash of something across Banefort's expression but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Roose frowned.

"No, my lord. The journey was uneventful." Was the reply Roose received, he frowned furthered. Why was he being lied to? The Bolton family motto flicked through his mind for a moment and Roose smirked. He _could_ flay Banefort.

"Why do I sense that you're lying? I could flay you for the truth if you'd prefer to do it that way…" He threatened. The guard flinched and Roose knew that he had succeeded.

"Lady Sansa tried to escape…" Banefort looked at the floor partly in shame and partly because he didn't know what Lord Bolton would do.

"And you lied because…"

"My lord, I pity her. She's young and alone in the world and I suppose I didn't want to cause her any more suffering." He said choosing his words carefully to not cause offense or anger his lord.

"You can go." Roose said. So she'd tried to escape. He smirked. Perhaps she wasn't as dutiful as her Tully blood suggested. The question was what would he do with that piece of information now that he had it? Sansa _was_ suffering at his hand but Roose didn't care. Killing Robb Stark had made him Warden of the North and ended the war preventing the loss of many men; both of which were of benefit. There would be repercussions for Sansa's escape attempt but Banefort's words kept playing in Roose's mind. Why should he care that she was suffering? He had caused it and yet he did care; not that she was suffering at his expense but that she was suffering. Perhaps Banefort was right in his sentiments, perhaps Sansa would come to the marriage more willingly if Roose acted like less of the monster that she believed him to be. Still, her defiance would not go unpunished; she would be his wife and she needed to learn that defying him had consequences. No doubt she had help from the maid, perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

Dinner was a sombre affair that evening; Roose had requested that Sansa join him in his solar instead of the great hall so that he could put an end to her ignoring him. She in turn had invited Tyrion to join them. And so, the three of them were sat in silence. Tyrion had told Sansa earlier that she needed to deal with her grief in a way that did not involve annoying or angering Lord Bolton, the stories of his cruelties were more than stories and he was worried for her. He was right and Sansa had decided to follow his advice but she wasn't quite ready to be alone with Lord Bolton.

"This soup is nice…" Tyrion said trying to diffuse the tension that was lying heavily between Sansa and Lord Bolton. Roose raised his eyebrows but said nothing and Sansa held back a giggle. The silence resumed. Sansa could feel Lord Bolton's cold gaze studying her as she ate. She swallowed, her heart racing. This was the man they called the 'Leech Lord', a monster and he was staring at her as though he might eat her after the soup. She shivered.

"Are you cold, my lady?" Roose asked her, gesturing for the serving boy to close the window that was only opened slightly.

"No, thank you, my lord." Sansa responded. Roose raised his eyebrows; so she was talking to him now? He was about to continue the conversation further when he saw a small exchange between his two guests. Tyrion smiled at her and she smiled back. So the imp was responsible for it. Roose was curious, not that it mattered why she was suddenly acknowledging him, no he was curious as to how close the two of them were. And he was determined to find out.

When they had finally finished eating, Lord Bolton asked Tyrion if he would leave them to it, stating that he had no intention of acting dishonourably towards when the imp voiced his concerns. Eventually, Tyrion agreed despite Sansa's terrified look which made Roose smirk; she was afraid of being alone with him, well she was about to find out just how scary he could be.

"My lady, Ser Banefort informed me earlier of your escape attempt…" Sansa froze, the air left her lungs and fear slowly replaced it, consuming her. _You survived Joffrey, you can survive this,_ a small voice told her before it was replaced with another; _this isn't Joffrey, this is Lord Bolton, the man who still flays people._ Blood drained from her face as the possible punishments flooded through her mind. "I won't tolerate defiance, you were given to me and trying to escape is exactly that…" he paused to gauge her reaction; she looked terrified. He smirked: a terrified bride was more likely to be a compliant bride. "There will be consequences…" She swallowed, praying that it wasn't going to be a beating, she wasn't sure how many more of those she could suffer through. "You needn't look so worried; I won't be harming you in any way…" Sansa relaxed before frowning. "I'm dismissing your maid…" Sansa's mouth dropped. He couldn't do that; Shae was her only friend. She'd sooner take a beating than lose Shae.

"My lord," Sansa began, unsure of how exactly she should word her plea. "Please forgive me, I was scared. The last time I was betrothed to someone, it resulted in both mental and physical abuse. My actions were foolish and motivated by fear. Shae is the sole companion I have…"

"Perhaps, in time you may find other _companions_ here." Roose stated. Sansa blinked at him, she could feel tears forming, threatening to fall. Quickly she blinked them away, he wouldn't see her cry.

"May I be excused?" She asked abruptly. Roose narrowed his eyes, studying her. Cersei had been wrong indeed.

"Not quite yet," He said and Sansa frowned. Was he keeping her there for the sake of it? "We have matters to discuss regarding our wedding… it will be in three days' time." Three days! She had three days left before she was to become Lady Bolton! Three days before she would belong to the man who murdered her brother! "In the Godswood. I've had a maid prepare a cloak for you… after so long in King's Landing, I assumed you wouldn't have anything bearing the Stark sigil."

"No, thank you, my lord." The response was curt and cold. Roose was pleased that she was at last talking to him but he was beginning to prefer her silence, at least that had emotion.

"You may go now, if you wish." He said and Sansa couldn't have stood up quick enough.

"Thank you for dinner, my lord." She said as she left the room, remembering what her mother had taught her. Suddenly shame washed over her as she thought of how disappointed Catelyn would be at the rudeness she had shown Lord Bolton. But then she remembered that family came before duty and honour in the Tully family motto and the shame disappeared as quickly as it came.

It didn't take Sansa long for her to return to her chambers but when she did, Shae was not there. Instead, a girl Sansa did not recognise was tidying her things. Her thoughts quickly turned to the maid that had been her only friend during her time in King's Landing and would've been her only friend at the Dreadfort. That man had taken the last of her family from her, was now taking her only friend leaving her truly alone and in three days' time would take everything else she had. _Gods, she hated him._


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N: Thank you for your reviews, kind words and follows; they motivate me to keep writing. To the guest who reviewed, don't worry Roose and Sansa will be the main couple, Tyrion is just her friend for now.**

 **Disclaimer: The dialogue during the wedding belongs to George R.R. Martin, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss.**

Chapter 3

Sansa spent the next two days avoiding Lord Bolton whenever possible which had been easier than she had expected. She succeeded in only seeing him at dinner, at which, her presence was required by him. If he happened to be walking down the same corridor as her, she turned around or entered the nearest door which had resulted in several upset servants when she interrupted their tasks unintentionally as she was still finding her way around. There had also been many occasions that avoiding Lord Bolton had resulted in her getting lost. If Lord Bolton was aware of what she was doing, he didn't mention it to her. In fact, dinner those two nights had been much like the first night. The only difference was that Lord Tyrion hadn't joined them and so Sansa and Lord Bolton sat in an uncomfortable and awkward silence each night. Every so often, she would feel his cold gaze on her but refused to look up; she hated him for what he had done and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

But avoiding Lord Bolton had not prevented the day from coming and so she was stood in _her_ room for the last time whilst the maid dressed her. It was a grey dress, no doubt Lord Bolton wanted to show her off as the last Stark; Sansa had to blink back tears when she laid eyes upon the material. She hadn't worn Stark grey since before she left Winterfell for King's Landing all those years ago, a happier time, when her family was still alive. The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes and this time she let them fall.

"There's no need to cry… the wedding night won't be that bad and Lord Bolton will try to be gentle if you ask…" The clueless maid tried to reassure Sansa. _Gods, the wedding night._ She hadn't even thought about that. How could she have forgotten? _Gods, she was going to have to… he would…_ She felt sick. The tears were falling freely now and Sansa couldn't stop them. How was she supposed to marry him? How was she supposed to bare his children? How was she supposed to share his bed? This was the man who had murdered her brother, planned the murder of her mother, the man who had taken her family from her. Sansa's thoughts turned to Shae; she didn't know where she was or what Lord Bolton had done to her (she was probably dead), all she knew was that Lord Bolton had taken something else from her. Did he want her to be alone? Sansa missed her; Shae was always able to say the right thing; it may have been harsh at times but it was always what Sansa needed to hear. This maid whoever she was, was useless and her nervousness and attempts at reassurance were making Sansa miss Shae even more. Ignoring the woman who was now fashioning Sansa's hair in a northern style, Sansa focussed on what Shae would say if she was there. The conversation inside Sansa's head was much like the conversation they had on their last day in King's Landing of duty and doing what must be done. Duty reminded her of Lady Catelyn and she smiled weakly at the thought of her mother, the mother who never wanted Sansa or her father to go to King's Landing to begin with. _Well mother, I'm going against the Tully motto._ She mused. _I'm putting duty first… but I suppose, I don't have any family left anyways._ He will become your family, a voice taunted her but she brushed it aside.

"There now, see everything will be just fine." The maid said when she saw Sansa's weak smile. Sansa made a mental note to get rid of the woman as soon as possible. There had to be someone more tolerable or even likeable in the Dreadfort. Suddenly, her hands rested on Sansa's shoulders.

"I think you are ready…" She beamed, out of politeness, Sansa smiled back. "During the ceremony, your things will be moved into Lord Bolton's chambers." She nodded, bile forming in her throat. Sansa went to speak but before she could, there was a knock at the door. The maid opened it to reveal Lord Tyrion, smartly dressed and smiling reassuringly at her.

"Give us a moment…" He instructed and the maid quickly left the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick…"

"That's understandable… if it helps, imagine he is someone who you would _want_ to marry…" Sansa almost laughed, the Lannisters had ruined that opportunity for her too. She wasn't going to pretend that Roose Bolton was Loras Tyrell; imagining herself marrying him would make her happy and she didn't want Lord Bolton to see her happy. She wanted him to see the consequences of what he had done. She wanted him to have a wife as cold as himself. The tears stopped falling and a numbness took over her.

"Come my lady, we don't want to keep him waiting." He said, offering her his arm. Sansa took it and allowed him to lead her out of the castle and into the Godswood.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" The maester whose name Sansa couldn't remember asked, the blood draining from her face.

"Sansa of House Stark comes here to be wed, a woman grown true born and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" Tyrion responded. The tears that she had _just_ been holding at bay were threatening to spill from her eyes, casting a watery glaze.

"Roose Bolton of House Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?" Lord Bolton was looking intently at her as he claimed her, his cold gaze studying her watery eyes and his own narrowed as he noticed her pale complexion. She looked as though she might faint before she even had a chance to say "I take this man." Sansa refused to look at him.

"Tyrion of House Lannister on behalf of King Joffrey." She was now swaying slightly from side to side, Sansa could feel her legs about to give way; she wondered how angry Lord Bolton would be if she stalled the ceremony by fainting, wondered what his punishment would be for her defying him again. She could feel herself about to fall, her legs finally betraying her when she felt a gentle hand on her waist steadying her. She turned to see it was Tyrion who was holding her up.

"My lady?" Lord Bolton almost growled at her, his anger at the exchange evident. Sansa frowned. "Your response…" Her response? What was her response? Fear gripped her and she was shaking; he was going to punish her for certain now. She looked around but everyone was staring expectantly at her.

The maester sensing her confusion spoke again. "Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" Oh, of course, her _response_. Sansa paused for a moment before answering, wondering what Lord Bolton would do if she said no. The look on his face told her she didn't want to find out.

"I take this man…" She mumbled, just loud enough so that it was heard. Sansa felt a hand on hers, gentle but rough at the same time and slowly she was being pulled to the ground. It was supposed to be a time of prayer but Sansa no longer found comfort in the Old or New Gods so instead she took the time to study her husband. His head was bent in prayer but Sansa could still see the coldness of his eyes. He wasn't _that_ unattractive she supposed if she looked past his murderous ways. Lord Bolton smirked as he felt his wife's eyes on him, studying him. Sansa rapidly turned away from him as she caught his smirk. He had seen her staring. Before long, she was being gently pulled back to her feet. Lord Bolton quickly removed the cloak from around her shoulders replacing it with the cloak in Bolton colours and that was it, she was officially a Bolton, House Stark no longer existed and she was the wife of the man who murdered her brother.

The wedding feast was different than Sansa expected; it seemed no expense had been spared. Wine had been imported from Dorne, not that she drank much of it. There were too many courses for Sansa to count serving food from across Westeros. The more Sansa thought about it, the more she realised that a great deal of planning had gone into the feast which meant that Lord Bolton had been planning it for some time and if he had been planning his wedding for some time, he had been planning Robb's murder too. Bile rose in her throat putting her off the delicious dishes that were being served.

"My lady, is the food not to your liking?" Lord Bolton asked her after watching her intently for some time as she pushed the food around her plate.

"It is, my lord." She replied and he narrowed his eyes. "I don't have much of an appetite."

"I see…" he said doubtful but didn't press her further.

"Perhaps Lady Bolton," The name sounded so wrong to Sansa. "Would prefer to dance, my lord." Tyrion sat on the opposite side of Lord Bolton to Sansa suggested. Lord Bolton stared at Tyrion for several moments before he turned back to Sansa.

"Would my lady?"

"Thank you my lord but I'm tired." Her gaze focused on the guests who were dancing. Lord Bolton narrowed his eyes at her, he wasn't fooled by her lie. But he didn't have time to consider the matter further as his attention was taking by guests who wished to speak to him about one thing or another. He was so engrossed in his conversation with Lord Karstark that he didn't at first notice when Lord Frey had approached the table in an attempt to converse with his wife.

Sansa hadn't realised that Lord Walder Frey was a guest and so was surprised to see him approaching her. But then she cursed herself for being stupid. _Of course he would be a guest, he and Lord Bolton had formed an alliance for murder._ Sansa prayed that he wished to speak to her husband and not her as she did not want to converse with the man who had been her husband's accomplice in the murders of her brother and mother. Lord Bolton she had to speak to because he was her husband and she was going to do her duty as a wife but Lord Frey, she wished to never see or speak to or hear of him again.

"My lady…" he drawled, she tensed. Roose felt the sudden change in his wife's demeanour and narrowing his eyes, tilted his head slightly to see out of his peripheral vision what he made her so uneasy. He frowned when he saw Lord Frey. "You look just like your mother…"

"Thank you, Lord Frey." Sansa mustered all the strength she possessed to reply politely.

"Lord Bolton tells me that you possess her strength and intelligence too…" He continued. How dare they talk about her. How dare they talk about her mother. They were the reason that Catelyn was dead. They were the reason that she was alone in the world.

"Perhaps if she hadn't been murdered, you would be able to compare us side by side." She said, wishing she hadn't as soon as the words left her mouth. Lord Bolton turned to her, surprised.

"Perhaps, still you do have the Tully bearing. It's ironic that the last Stark is so much of a Tully than a Stark." Roose felt his wife's demeanour change again, this time it was to anger. Rapidly he brought a halt to the conversation he was having, turning to the exchange taking place beside him.

"Lord Frey…" Both Sansa and Walder Frey ignored Roose's sudden attempt at intervention.

"Well, if traitorous lords didn't keep killing members of House Stark, I wouldn't be the last." Roose smirked before placing a hand on Sansa's thigh to stop her from saying anything further.

"Lord Frey, forgive my wife's rudeness, she's still grieving." Sansa turned to Roose annoyed but his grip on her thigh tightened, stopping her from saying anything.

"No matter, we did kill the last of her family…" He said before walking away. Sansa was still staring at Lord Bolton thinking of what to say that wouldn't cause a scene.

"Perhaps my lady, we should have our first dance…" Sansa blinked. Had she heard him correctly? Lord Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, Kingslayer had asked her for a dance? Well, he was towering over her, his hand held out daring her to take her but his gaze suggested she didn't have a choice. She placed her hand in his and he lead her onto the dancefloor, eyes following them as they went.

His grip was firm as he led her in the steps and Sansa realised she felt _comfortable_ held in his arms. _Comfortable? This is Lord Bolton,_ she reminded herself. Feeling comfortable in _his_ arms was wrong. But no matter how much she told herself that she was not feeling that way, she couldn't stop it. She did feel comfortable and when she looked up to meet his gaze, she saw something unexpected and unexplainable. Laced within the coldness of his eyes was what looked like admiration. It couldn't be. He did not feel admiration for her. And yet, it was there. Sansa's head was spinning. Shocked mixed with confusion had taken over. It was all so wrong. The music was slowing and the dance was coming to an end but Sansa hadn't realised, her eyes were lost in his and she couldn't think straight. Everything was distorted, nothing was making sense to her anymore. Then, he let go of her and reality came flooding back.

"My lady?" He was holding out his arm again for her. "Shall we retire?" Retire? It couldn't be that late already. "Unless you would prefer a second dance?" He raised his eyebrow. Sansa didn't particularly like either option. _It's inevitable… you may as well get it over with,_ a small voice told her. She nodded, taking the offered hand and allowing him to lead her out of the hall towards his… _their_ bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

She nodded, taking the offered hand and allowing him to lead her out of the hall towards his… _their_ bedroom. Neither spoke but Roose could feel her trembling as they walked. Looking at her, he realised for the first time how young she was. The Lannisters had given him a child bride but one that had been strong enough to go through with the wedding; Walder Frey had been right; Sansa's strength came from Catelyn Stark. He wasn't sure if she was trembling out of fear of the wedding night itself or fear of him but he placed his spare hand on top of hers to calm her. He didn't know why he cared that she was scared or why he cared enough to reassure her but care he did. Sansa looked at him but he couldn't quite read the expression on her face.

"Why was there no bedding ceremony, my lord?" She asked weakly, saying the first thing that came into her head in a vain attempt to ease the tension.

"I didn't want other men touching what's _mine_ to touch…" Sansa swallowed. "Would you have preferred there to be one?" He narrowed his eyes, again trying to read her.

"No my lord… I was… I was just curious." She said as they stopped moving, she was about to question why they had done so when she saw his hand reach out and turn the door handle. Then he took a step back gesturing for her to go in first.

Upon entering the room, Sansa noticed her things had indeed been placed neatly in the room and they fitted in next to his as though they belonged. She shivered at that thought, how could she possibly belong as Lady Bolton? She wasn't entirely sure what was expected of her so she focussed her attention on studying the room, scrutinising every detail. Roose was watching her, frowning, did it matter how the room looked?

"Does the room please you, my lady?" He found himself asking but he didn't know why. Why should he care if she was pleased? She was _his_ now. He didn't need her to be pleased. She belonged to _him_.

"Yes my lord…" She trembled, noticing the two chalices and jug resting on the dressing table. She walked towards it, picked up the jug and turned to Lord Bolton. "My lord?"

"Not for me, but please help yourself." He said reminded of a similar conversation he had with her mother on the night she died. Roose took a seat on the bed, as she carefully poured a small volume of the liquid into one of the chalices. She raised it to her lips and took a drink. It was too sour for her and she was suddenly relieved that she hadn't drank at dinner. Sansa placed the chalice back down and turned to find an expectant Lord Bolton staring at her. She swallowed.

"Come here…" Sansa did as she was told. His hands reached around her to gently undo the laces of her wedding gown. Before long, the fine material was pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it and closer to her husband feeling vulnerable in only her silk shift. Sansa positioned her arms across her chest but Lord Bolton took hold and firmly placed them by her side. She flinched when his hands graced the exposed flesh of her shoulders as he unlaced the thin ribbons holding the garment up. That too landed in a pool at Sansa's feet. Now she was completely naked, standing in front of the Lord of the Dreadfort. Goosebumps were forming along her arms and she shivered.

Roose was admiring the view in front of him when the mirror above the dressing table caught his eye, as it showed what Roose couldn't see. "Turn around." He instructed her roughly.

"My lord?" Sansa asked suddenly fearful of what he would do when he saw the marks across her back. She had forgotten they were there.

"I believe you heard me, my lady." Slowly she turned, her eyes focussed on the floor. Roose gently reached and placed a hand on the longest scar tracing it with his index finger. "Why does someone so young have so many scars?"

"King Joffrey would have the King's guard beat me… he liked to…" Tears were pricking at her eyes threatening to fall. "He liked to hurt me." One succeeded in trickling down her cheek. Sensing her distress Roose turned her back around, positioning her between his legs and pulling her onto his lap. Another tear fell down her face, he caught it as it reached her cheek. For the second time that night, he was reminded of how young she was, so young and yet so much had happened to her. He placed a hand beneath her chin and turned her to face him. "My lady, you need not fear me. So long as you are dutiful and provide me with an heir, I shall not hurt you…" Sansa swallowed, blinking back tears. _So he had no intentions of falling in love with her, of this being the marriage her parents had, she thought._ Her heart sank, she may have escaped Kings Landing but she was still only a possession that had a use, for now at least.

"I think it is time we consummated this marriage." Sansa nodded. In an instant, his lips were trailing kisses along her neck. _Gods he wanted her._ His desire was evident in his eyes. Sansa was shocked: The Lord of the Dreadfort desired _her,_ stupid, little Sansa Stark who had been cast aside by the king for the wife of a dead traitor. He wanted _her._ Lord Bolton's lips had made their way to her chest, slowly down to her breasts where he took the right in his mouth zigzagging his tongue across the nipple eliciting a moan from the girl beneath him. Sansa froze, embarrassed by the sound she had just made, a sound that aroused Roose even more. Rapidly, he picked her up and placed her on the bed before he continued his assault on her hardened nipple. Sansa gasped, placing her hands on Roose's chest as she leaned towards him. The contact reminded Roose that he was still fully clothed. He pulled away from her, unbuttoning the garment and casting it on the floor somewhere. Next came his under shirt. Sansa groaned in frustration at the loss of contact before blushing at the sound that had just left her mouth. Roose smirked. _So Lady Sansa desired his touch._ He smirked again at the thought before climbing back on top of her. Sansa gasped as a finger suddenly entered her. This was followed by a second finger. The two slowly massaged her folds avoiding her centre. Sansa bucked against his fingers in pleasure but stopped when she felt herself getting wet. She flushed, praying to the gods that he didn't notice. She was relieved when his fingers continued their movement. They did so for a few more moments before pulling away from her completely. Sansa was soaked now, dripping onto the furs. Suddenly a thought crossed her mind, what if he was displeased with her? Fear took hold of her.

"My lord?" She asked, sitting up.

"Lie back down." He instructed her. She did as was told, annoyed with herself for disappointing him. Roose unlaced his breeches, stepping out of them and climbing back onto the bed. Sansa sighed in relief as she felt the bed dip; he wasn't displeased. "This is going to hurt…" He informed her. "I will be as gentle as I can…" Sansa no longer felt scared, she was aroused, her heart was pounding in her chest. She was about to become a woman and that excited her besides, she was too overcome with the pleasure she was currently experiencing to feel anything else. Roose gently entered her. It was pleasurable at first before a pain sparked between her legs. Sansa cried out momentarily stopping Roose. He changed his position slightly in an attempt to make it more comfortable for her but to no avail. She was doing her best to keep the tears at bay as her hands gripped the furs tightly, her knuckles going white. He pushed in deeper, the tears were falling now. _Damn, he had told her he would be gentle. Of course it was going to hurt but he hadn't expected her to cry._ He pulled out slightly before pushing in deeper, this time there was no cry out just a wince. Relieved that the pain was more subdued, he quickened his pace slightly. Sansa gasped. Pleasure was slowly overwhelming the pain and once more she felt herself wet. Roose was so consumed for lust that Sansa's little gasps were spurning him on and his pace increased again. She cried out but he was losing control and her pain was suddenly insignificant to his pleasure. He could feel her close to her first orgasm and despite hurting her, sped up in the hope that it would bring him to his. Sansa felt her body convulse around Roose; a sense of something, she didn't quite know what, came over her and it felt good. She suddenly wanted more, pulling him closer to her. Roose responded by brushing his lips against hers before thrusting in and out of her more intensely.

"My lord…" Sansa called out, bringing Roose closer. She was still trembling from her first contractions when he felt the second set began and he prayed to the Gods that she climaxed before him. Roose was too overwhelmed by desire for her to respond, instead he slowed his thrusts into her. It was futile, he came spilling his seed in her. The magnitude of sensation engulfed her in a world of elation and brought on her second orgasm.

"Gods Sansa…" He said as collapsed against her, his head buried in her neck. He remained that like for a few moments, Sansa unsure of what to do, before he pulled out of her and rolled of her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against, wrapping the furs around them. His head was nestled in her hair. Sansa wanted to speak but she didn't know what to say. What did one say after _that_? It was Roose who spoke first.

"I was proud of you today…"

"My lord?" She asked weakly.

"Lord Frey, I can't imagine that was easy…" No more than marrying my brother's murderer she mused. "But you composed yourself with grace and… I was… proud." He confessed. It was true, he had been listening to the exchange between the two and had heard exactly what she had said to Lord Frey. "I think you will make a fine Lady Bolton…"

"You do… my lord?"

"Yes, I do. Especially after that performance…" He mused. Sansa felt her heart swell; perhaps they would have a marriage like her parents after all. But there was still a tiny slither of doubt in her mind as a voice reminded her of Robb. Poor Robb. Suddenly guilt washed over her as she realised she had betrayed her family and had enjoyed doing it. She felt sick. Who exactly was she married to? A fact dawned on her causing her to tense up: he wasn't afraid to murder innocent people, what if she ever displeased him or angered him? Would he kill her too?

Roose felt her tense up and sighing, he guessed why. "Sansa you do not need to be afraid of me…" He told her more abruptly than intended. Sansa nodded against him but still she couldn't shake the feeling of fear she now felt at being married to the Lord of the Dreadfort.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N:/ Thank you for your wonderful reviews.**

 **I apologise for the lack of Roose in this chapter.**

Chapter 5

Sansa sighed, her eyelids slowly fluttering open. She had slept better than she had in a long time and felt well rested. Looking around the room, for a moment she forgot where she was and then the events of the day before came flooding back; the wedding, the wedding feast, Walder Frey, the dance and then _last night_. She blushed at _that_ particular memory. It had hurt but he had tried to be gentle and for that she was grateful. It had also been quite pleasurable if one looked past the pain. Sighing again, Sansa rolled over. Disappointment filled her when she saw the bed was empty and her husband was not in the room. Judging by the light seeping through the curtains, it was well past first light and probably closer to noon. Deciding that it would be improper to stay in bed any longer, Sansa climbed out of bed wrapping the bed furs around her and made her way to the door hoping that there was a guard there. There was two. She opened the door ignoring all embarrassment she was currently feeling to reveal two guards who were clearly surprised but amused by Lady Bolton's attire. She kindly asked if one of them would fetch a maid, they agreed and she quickly shut the door.

Before long the maid whose name Sansa still needed to learn arrived. Sansa wasn't sure she liked her but she was efficient and had Sansa dressed and ready for the day in a very short space of time.

"Lord Bolton wishes to see you once you've broken your fast..." she informed Sansa.

"And how do I find Lord Bolton?" Sansa asked. During her time exploring the castle, she was still to find his study or any other rooms that were solely for his use. In truth, she had probably spent more time avoiding him than she had exploring.

"He said that he would find you in the lower Bailey."

"And how do I get there?" Sansa asked and as the maid proceeded to give her directions, the door opened and a young girl carrying a tray of food entered.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Sansa's maid rounded on her.

"I'm... sor... ry..." the young girl spoke setting the tray on the table that Sansa hadn't realised was in the room.

"It's quite alright..." Sansa replied. "Just remember in future... I don't think Lord Bolton would take kindly to you entering without knocking." The girl nodded hesitantly before leaving the room.

"Forgive me, my lady..."

"Perhaps you were too harsh on her..." Sansa stated but didn't press the matter further. The maid then collected Sansa's dirty clothing from the previous day from around the room, removed the sheet from the bed and left the room. Sansa was at last alone. She was ravenous having not eaten properly for days and last night's activities had certainly given her an appetite.

When Sansa finally made it to the lower bailey, Lord Bolton was standing waiting for her, his arms folded. He didn't look happy. Sansa swallowed. After leaving her room, one of the guards had left to tell Lord Bolton that she was up and had breakfasted, the other had offered to direct her to where she was meeting her husband but at some point she had lost him and gotten lost. She suspected it was when he took her past the kitchens and she stopped to asked if they had any lemons for lemon cakes. The woman just stared at her. After that Sansa had followed a guard she believed to have been the right one but soon discovered he wasn't. And now Lord Bolton looked angry with her all because of lemon cakes.

"My lady, I see you took the scenic route..." he said raising his eyebrows.

"Forgive me, my lord... I got lost..." she replied stopping in front of him.

"Indeed... Perhaps if you have spent more time finding your way around and less time avoiding me, you might by now know where everything is." Sansa swear again, so he knew. She wondered why he hadn't said anything. "I trust after last night; you won't be feeling the need to continue doing so. Sansa blushed.

"No, my lord."

"Good. You must be wondering why I brought you out here..." Sansa nodded. "I have something for you..." A gift? Lord Bolton had gotten her a gift? She smiled a genuine smile. Roose frowned slightly at her reaction. He hadn't expected her to be so pleased but seeing her smile like that warmed him. A young stable boy exited the stables leading a white palfrey towards them. He stopped when he reached them.

"My lord, my lady..." he addressed them as he stopped walking.

Lord Bolton turned to Sansa. "For you, my lady." Sansa was so overcome with happiness at her generosity that she almost hugged him. Almost. But then a thought dawned on her: having her own horse would mean riding it regularly and she hated riding.

"Thank you, my lord." She said politely trying to hide all of her current emotions from him.

"My men said that you struggled on the journey here, it's a rough ride to Winterfell and I can't have you slowing us down, you will spend at least one hour each day riding."

"Yes, my lord." Sansa said feeling slightly embarrassed by his words especially when they were in the presence of a servant. Of course Lord Bolton hadn't simply given her a gift, he was Lord Bolton after all. He didn't do nice things for nice people. Slightly annoyed with at her own stupidity, Sansa asked the stable boy to fetch her a mounting block.

"My lady, it would be quicker if I helped you up..." Lord Bolton said to her. Sansa turned to her husband then to the stable boy then back to her husband before nodding. Roose cupped his hands together next to the horse, Sansa placed her foot in the gap and he pushed onto the horse. The contact sent sparks through Sansa right to her core and she blushed. Fortunately, Lord Bolton didn't see. Once on the horse, Sansa arranged herself so she was sat side saddle. Roose raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm better at riding this way..."

"Riding astride is faster and more comfortable for long journeys through hard terrain. You will ride astride." He told her, his tone suggesting that he wouldn't argue with her about it. Sighing, Sansa repositioned her leg so that she was sat astride the horse. Lord Bolton smirked at how easy it had been. He, after recent events had expected her to argue with him. Maybe Cersei was right and she was obedient after all.

"I'll see you at dinner this evening..." he said before returning in doors and leaving her sat there unsure of what to do. He was expecting her to spend an hour riding but she didn't even know where to go. She sat for several more minutes before she heard the best of horse hooves and for a moment, she thought perhaps he's decided to join me. She was slightly disappointed when it was actually Tyrion.

"My lady, would you like some company?" He asked.

"Of course," she smiled sweetly, "although, I don't know where I'm going."

"Perhaps into the woods?" He suggested and she nodded in agreement. "You seem happier today,"

"I am, Lord Frey will be leaving today and I will never have to lay eyes on the murder again..." She confessed knowing that Tyrion wouldn't tell anyone.

"I'm afraid he's staying another night, my lady." He admitted and Sansa's mood was slightly darkened by the thought of having to dine with him again. For a moment, she considered not going to dinner but push the thought out of her mind when she remembered that Lord Bolton had told her that he would see her there.

"You're not much of a rider, are you?" He mused after they had been going for some time, Tyrion having to slow his pace so she could keep up.

"No, Arya..." she began, pain at the memory flooding through her. "Arya was always better than me but she hated riding side saddle."

"Your sister didn't like being a lady, did she?" Sansa didn't answer, she was lost in memories of so long ago, before King's Landing, before her family was destroyed. They were memories that she buried some time before when they became too painful to bare but now out in the open, back in the North, she could bare the pain. She was brought of her trip down memory lane by the sound of horse beats and the desperate shout of a squire.

"Lord Tyrion, there's a message for you... it bears the Lannister seal..."

"I'll be right there, forgive me my lady."

"It's quite alright, my lord."

"There's a clearing not too far away, go as far as that and then turn back, you're too vulnerable unguarded to go further." He said, turning the horse around and heading back in the direction of the castle with the squire in tow. Sansa, on the other hand, did as Tyrion suggested. The wind whipped through her hair as Sansa tried to increase her speed. She was enjoying herself, away from everything and everyone. Out here, she didn't have to be polite to people she didn't like, she didn't have to smile at traitors, she didn't have to pretend that she wasn't feeling the way she felt. Out here, she was free. The clearing wasn't far from where Tyrion had left her and she decided to prove Lord Bolton and his men wrong. She gently nudged the horse with her feet and instantly the horse was moving faster, maybe too fast. Sansa's grip on the reins was slipping. She futilely tried to get the horse to trot but it was no use. She pulled on one rein forcing the horse to stop. It came to an abrupt standstill. Sansa was flung from the saddle and landed in a hedge. When she finally untangled herself and her now ripped dress from the plant, she decided to walk the horse back; there was nothing to use as a mounting block and she didn't want to try and hoist herself up for fear of falling off again. Lord Bolton would definitely not be finding out about this, she mused glad that Tyrion hadn't witnessed it. The only ones who would ever know about it were her and the horse.

It didn't take too long for her to return to the Dreadfort. She left the horse with a shocked stable hand and somehow without getting lost made her way to their bedchamber. Sansa desperately wanted and needed a bath but when she walked into the room, all thoughts of a bath went out of her head. The maid was rummaging through Sansa's closet. There was a pile of her dresses discarded on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Sansa demanded.

"Clearing out your dresses, my lady. Getting rid of the ones in Stark and Tully colours…"

"Why?" Sansa narrowed her eyes.

"Lord Bolton told me too…" Anger surged over her like a tidal wave.

"Get out!" She screamed. "I no longer require your service, send someone else to help me change." How dare he? These were _her_ dresses. The only things that she had left that connected her to her family. He was trying to take them from her just like her had taken Robb from her, taken her mother from her, taken Shae from her.

Once changed, Sansa asked the new maid to take her to wherever Lord Bolton was. She did so hesitantly, informing Sansa that Lord Bolton was in conference with someone. Sansa didn't care. There was too much anger and grief consuming her to care. The maid left her at the door and the guard knocked before informing Lord Bolton that his wife was at the door. Surprised, Roose dismissed Locke and Sansa was given permission to enter, not that she needed it, she would've done so with or without his permission. Roose was intrigued, what could his wife possibly want at this hour? Dinner wasn't far away, surely it could've waited until then? But seeing her expression as she entered his study, he realised that it could not wait until dinner. She was livid, fire flecked through her blue eyes.

"My lady," He inquired, remaining seated.

"I just returned to _our_ bedchamber…" She wasn't sure why she emphasized the word 'our'. "And found the maid getting rid of some of my dresses." Ah, he had hoped it would be done before Sansa had returned to their bedchamber so that the blow was softened. He had expected her to be annoyed but not this annoyed. "Any of my dresses that were Stark or Tully colours…"

"You're a Bolton now…" He replied blazély making Sansa even angrier.

"I'm a Stark and a Tully!" She almost shouted at him.

"House Stark no longer exists and House Tully is in ruin." He was becoming angry now too.

"House Stark exists through me." She said, her words dripped with venom. "House Tully exists…"

"House Stark ceased to exist when you said 'I take this man' yesterday…" he cut her off. "You are _my_ wife and will dress appropriately."

"I'm only _your_ wife because your hold on the North is weak after you murdered my brother. The Northern lords will _never_ forgive you for slaughtering their king." She added before walking to the door. "I dismissed her, the maid." She said, a final nail in the coffin before walking out of the room and back to their own. She hadn't yet browsed the books that were on the shelf in the solar and decided that she would spend some time getting lost in another world before dinner.

It was nestled in the chair by the fire reading about the history of Westeros that the maid found her sometime later.

"My lady, do you wish to change for dinner?"

"No, I will dine in here tonight. I'm too tired." Sansa told the maid. She had been planning to dine with Lord Bolton in the great hall despite Walder Frey being there but had decided that she didn't want to spend time with her husband after all. She would miss Tyrion's company but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

"Very good, my lady." The maid replied going into the bedroom and returning with the dresses that had been left on the floor. "What should I do with these?" Sansa looked up from the book and saw the offensive items of clothing. Suddenly, she had an idea. Lord Bolton would after her absence at dinner tonight demand her presence every night after and she would be there but she would be wearing the colours that he so despised.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

How dare she? He was Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell, Warden of the North and Lord Paramount of the North. How dare she question _him_! She was _his wife_! He was fuming. It was a few dresses! Judging by the state of them, they were quite old dresses too. Roose hadn't intended to upset her, but he couldn't have her wearing dresses that were in _those_ colours. His hold on the North was tenuous at best, it was the reason he married her in the first place, and her wearing _those_ colours would spark a rebellion. Cersei Lannister had told him that she was obedient… that was not obedient! He was livid. But there was a part of him that had been aroused by her performance. A part of him that wanted to break her defiant streak. He wanted her bent to his will and he knew exactly how to do it.

"My lord," Locke asked, peering around the door. He had been stood outside for some time since Lady Bolton had left, waiting for Lord Bolton to call him back in.

"Come in…" Roose said and the man did as he was told, walking across the room until he reached Lord Bolton's desk. "You were saying… before we were interrupted."

"No-one in Winterfell knows where they went… I tried a few of the Stark bannermen and they haven't seen them since before Robb Stark left Winterfell."

"Do you think they're dead?"

"I don't know… they have an aunt in the Vale or there's Castle Black, I could try…" Locke suggested. "Thanks to Theon Greyjoy, the North thinks them dead, does it really matter that they're not?"

"Of course it matters!" Roose rounded on him. "Rickon not so much… Lady Bolton is probably the only person in the North who would recognise him but Bran Stark is different… if he was to turn up alive, he could challenge my claim on the North…"

"What do you want me to do?" Locke asked.

"I want you to go to every house in the North, every ally the Starks had so I can be sure that the Stark boys are dead."

"And if I find them?"

"Bring them back alive without Lady Bolton finding out… I don't think she would take kindly to it…"

"Of course, my lord." Locke replied. He then left the room, leaving Lord Bolton on his own. Roose sighed; the Starks were more trouble than they were worth. He turned his attention to the message that had been sent from Winterfell: it was a report on progress the rebuilding. Roose wanted to travel there as soon as possible and so was demanding a lot from those involved with the rebuild. It was mainly squatters that he had found living in the wreckage. The report was important but Roose couldn't concentrate. The image of his young wife with fire in her eyes kept interrupting his thoughts, distracting him from whatever the words said. _Gods he wanted her so much._ After reading the same sentence for about the fifteenth time, he gave up and set the report aside. He would deal with it when he wasn't so aroused. Every fibre of his being wanted to find her, drag her to their bedchamber and ravish her. But he didn't. She would still be angry with him and he didn't want to force himself on her if she refused his advances. Instead, he rounded up a few men and went hunting.

A few hours later, he returned to the Dreadfort even frustrated than he had been before. Hunting had failed to take his mind of his young wife and as a result, for the first time since he was a boy, he hadn't caught anything. Now he was really annoyed at her. She did not get to do that to him. How was she after one day of marriage able to get into his head like this? Why did he want her so badly? How had she managed to infiltrate every part of his day? _Gods he wanted her… no he_ _needed_ _her._ Now that their wedding night was out of the way, he could fuck her properly, he could make her scream his name and he fully intended to, he smirked.

When he arrived in the great hall late for dinner, Roose narrowed his eyes. His wife's seat was empty. As far as he knew, she had been in all afternoon since their confrontation earlier on. Sansa was not the type of person to be late to anything even if she was still annoyed at him. If she wasn't here now, she wasn't going to turn up. Annoyed, Roose took his seat. That woman was really testing him and she was going to find out exactly what happened when you crossed Roose Bolton.

"Where's the dear Lady Bolton?" Walder Frey asked. He wasn't the first of the remaining wedding guests to question Sansa's absence from dinner. Roose went to respond but was stopped by Tyrion's own response.

"Lady Bolton spent a great of the day out riding, she's too tired to dine with us tonight."

"Riding, eh?" He smirked. Lord Bolton narrowed his eyes, did that man every think of something other than sex? Roose then scowled at Tyrion. He did not need the Imp fighting his battles for him or speaking on his behalf.

"How was she? Does she take after her mother in that department? Five children… she must've been good."

"Lord Frey, that is my goodmother you talk about please have some respect…" Thinking of Catelyn Stark made him think of the Red Wedding and that in turn made him think of Sansa's earlier outburst which was turning him on.

"Catelyn Stark is dead..."

"You shouldn't speak ill of the dead." Tyrion said but neither lord was listening.

"Regardless she is still my wife's mother. Have _you_ managed to find yourself a new wife?" He asked trying to change the subject.

"No not yet…" Lord Frey asked losing interest in the conversation and turning his attention elsewhere. Lord Bolton sighed in relief that he didn't have to listen to Walder Frey any more. Their houses may have been aligned and he may have needed him for the Red Wedding but he could only just tolerate the man.

"You were quick to defend the woman you so easily betrayed…" Tyrion mused, taking a drink from the glass of Arbour Red he held in his hand.

"Catelyn Stark was a casualty of war and regardless of my role in her death, she was the mother of my wife and I will not have her spoken to the way he just did under my roof." Roose replied narrowing his eyes, why was he defending himself to Tyrion Lannister?

"She said something about dresses and Lord Frey when I inquired as to why she wasn't joining us..."

"Those bloody dresses." Roose said under his breath not meaning for anyone to hear.

"Dresses, my lord?" Tyrion asked.

"They were in the colours of House Stark and House Tully… I didn't think appropriate for her to have them any longer…" Why he was telling Tyrion, he really didn't know.

"Ah, my lord if I may give some advice." Tyrion paused waiting for a response. Roose moved his hand in a gesture encouraging him to continue. "Lady Sansa has no family left except for her half-brother at the Wall. Things like the colour of her dresses mean a great deal to her because it's all she has left of her family." It probably wasn't meant to but to Roose, it felt like Tyrion was criticising him for his actions.

"Regardless, she is Lady _Bolton_ now." He replied bringing an end to the conversation. Dinner was a very slow affair and Roose found himself praying that the guests would hurry up and leave the great hall so that he too could retire. Thankfully those that remained would be leaving tomorrow and he would be alone with Sansa. _Gods that woman!_ He couldn't get her off his mind. She was everywhere.

When the guests were finally beginning to disperse albeit very slowly, Roose made a quick exit from the great hall and practically ran to their bedchamber. As he neared the door, he regained his composure. He opened it with force, shocking the two guards and Sansa who was sitting in his chair reading, jumped.

"You weren't at dinner…" He stated, walking towards her.

"No, I didn't want to eat with my brother's murderers." She replied, not looking up from whatever she was reading. Anger was boiling within him.

"You rather enjoyed sharing a bed with one of them." He taunted but she didn't reply. Instead, she closed the book she was reading making a mental note of the page, walked to the bookcase where she returned it to its place. Then Sansa walked past Roose to the door, opened it and asked one of the guards to send for her maid. As she turned back to the room and proceeded to walk through the solar into the bedchamber, Roose caught her wrist and spun her to face him. The contact sent electricity shooting through her body. Lust was evident in his eyes. Sansa stood staring at him and he stared back. Neither dared to look away. It was a battle of what he wasn't sure but it was definitely a battle and Roose Bolton did not lose battles. She was lost in the grey of his eyes drowning in a pool of desire, lust and anger. He could feel her pulse pounding where he held her wrist.

The door opened but neither noticed it.

"My lady…" The young maid said upon entering.

"Get out!" Roose shouted and as quickly as she entered, she left. Roose and Sansa were still staring at each other. He placed his spare hand on her waist and pulled her towards him. His lips crashed against hers. Their tongues were suddenly engaged in a fight, battling for dominance. Sansa's knees were weakening just as Roose began pushing her towards the bedroom, their mouths only separating for air. Once there, he fiddled with the laces of her gown but couldn't undo them quick enough. He reached for the dagger on his belt, grabbing it quickly and slicing the laces causing the gown to fall leaving Sansa in only her silk shift. She gasped as the material fell.

"Gods…" Roose murmured against her lips, discarding the dagger somewhere on the floor. Next, his hands found their way to the ties of the shift, undoing them with haste. That too fell to the floor, leaving another pile of material. Roose pushed her further until her back collided with the bedpost. Moving her to the right, he then pushed her back on to the furs, breaking the contact between their mouths. Sansa gasped as her bare skin touched the soft furs. He left her lying there, naked and exposed as he removed his scabbard. This was quickly followed by his doublet, shoes and shirt leaving him topless before he climbed onto the bed and on top of her. His lips brushed her neck trailing chaste kisses on the skin leaving goose bumps in their wake. Sansa shuddered, she could already feel a wetness gathering down below. Roose smirked. His lips now moved across to her sternum, moving down to her naval before returning back up where they stopped at her breast. Sansa moaned as he gently rolled his tongue back and forth across the nipple; she blushed at the noise that had escaped her lips before arching her back and leaning into him eager for his touch. Sensing her desperation, Roose placed two fingers into her folds. The touch sent a shiver through her body. Feeling the effect it was having and eager to have her begging for him, he stopped his oral caress of her breast and moved his lips to her thigh. Slowly they made their way to her centre and he removed his fingers.

"Please, my lord…" Sansa breathed, not entirely sure what she was asking for.

"I think Sansa, when we're like _this_ , you can call me Roose." He replied before placing his mouth at her entrance. His tongue darted out and began licking the folds avoiding the nub. Up and down… up and down… up and down. Before long Roose could feel Sansa contracting around him, screaming his name. She was dripping wet. Finally, she was ready for him. Roose moved off her and smirked at her frustrated sigh. He quickly removed his breeches, flinging them somewhere on the floor before he returned to his very aroused wife. Gently, he slid into her. She gasped. Then he pulled out before going in deeper. Another gasp. He thrust in and out of her, his speed increasing with each thrust. She was screaming his name, begging for her release and it came. The contractions bringing him so close to his own orgasm. Sansa was still trembling when it finally came and he split his seed inside of her, screaming her name into her neck. He pulled out of her and rolled of her to lie on his back beside, pulling the furs up around them. Roose wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him and she settled in his arms.

Neither spoke for a while silently listening to the others ragged breathing. When his breathing returned to normal, Roose spoke.

"Apparently you do quite enjoy sharing a bed with one of _them_ ," He said, placing a kiss to her temple.


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N: Sorry for the delay… work, book signings and exam results got in the way. Anyways thank you all for your lovely reviews and follows.**

Chapter 7

Sansa stirred slightly, roused by the sound of the door closing gently. Her eyes fluttered opened as she suddenly became aware of a weight across her body. She turned and saw her Lord husband lying in the bed next to her. Frowning, she moved her gaze to the window. It was not yet first light. Then her gaze returned to her husband who was sleeping beside her. Sansa studied him intently before frowning again: he looked peaceful. Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, the man who instilled fear in the bravest of men looked peaceful. She almost laughed in disbelief but stopped herself. She didn't want to wake him up, not yet anyways. Besides, she didn't think he would take too kindly to being laughed at. He'd already gotten rid of Shae, she didn't know what he would do next and that scared her. In truth, most things about her husband scared her. His unpredictability scared her. She had expected him to be annoyed at her last night, after all she had defied him. She wasn't expecting him to do what he had when he had returned to their bedchamber. Shout at her, yes. Hit her, yes. But _that_ , no she was not expecting it. But, reflecting on it this morning, it had been rather enjoyable she thought, blushing. Their wedding night had been painful and pleasurable but last night had just been pleasurable, again she blushed at the memory. Perhaps Margaery had been right. Sansa was still dwelling on this when she felt Roose stir from his slumber. Quickly, she snapped her eyes shut. She did not want to have a conversation with him; she might have enjoyed last night but that did not mean she liked him any more or hated him any less than before last night. No, she definitely did not hate him any less and she didn't forgive him for what he had done. Sansa kept her eyes shut and slowed her breathing until she heard the door close and Roose leave the room. She climbed out of bed, pulled her robe around her and walked to the door, opened it and asked the guards to fetch a maid so she could dress.

"Lord Bolton has requested your presence in the courtyard this morning, my lady." The maid said as she was finishing Sansa's hair in a northern fashion. Sansa nodded, dread washing over her. Lord Bolton was definitely angry with her last night and he hadn't scolded her for her disobedience or the humiliation she had caused by not being at dinner whilst they had guests. No doubt that was why he wanted to see her. Sansa sighed, she had brought this on herself, now she had to face the consequences, whatever that meant. He was waiting for her when she arrived, as was Walder Frey and the entirety of the Frey guard. Relief gripped Sansa.

"My lords, forgive my lateness, I overslept." She lied as she approached the two lords. Roose smirked.

"A blushing bride indeed." Lord Frey said, she ignored him.

"Indeed." Roose replied.

"Lord Bolton, Lady Bolton…" His gaze lingered on her too long making Sansa feel uncomfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality. I trust we will be seeing each other soon."

"I highly doubt that." Sansa said under her breath, quiet enough so that no-one heard.

"Should you need assistance in the taking of Riverrun, I would be happy to send you some men…" Roose replied. Wait… Sansa thought her uncle had been killed at the Red Wedding. Maybe he survived, maybe she wasn't alone after all.

"The Blackfish shouldn't be too hard to eliminate…" Lord Frey mused and laughed. Roose smirked. Sansa felt sick. The blood drained from her face. So Edmure hadn't survived or had been taken a prisoner. And now they were going to kill her great uncle. Her husband was determined to kill all of her family. She wouldn't be surprised if next he marched on the wall and killed Jon. She didn't understand why the Tullys were next on their hit list. Robb and her mother, whilst she couldn't forgive, she could to some extent understand. But the Tullys? What would Lord Bolton gain from helping Lord Frey kill Brynden Tully? The Tullys held no claim to the North. Unless Lord Bolton wanted the Freys' loyalty and helping Lord Frey claim Riverrun was his way of ensuring he had it.

"No he shouldn't be…" Roose replied, seeing Sansa in his peripheral version stopped his trail of thought. She looked the way she had at their wedding: pale and sickly. He reached out for her as she started swaying, placing a hand against the small of her back to stop her from falling. "Still, you are sieging Riverrun… you may need some assistance."

"Indeed… till then." Walder Frey said climbing into the wheel house. Before long, the last of the Frey host had left the courtyard and Sansa no longer had to see or engage that horrible man. That left a few of the Northern houses who Lord Bolton felt were beginning to out stay their welcome. But some of them were houses that were yet to swear their allegiance.

His hand was still placed against her back as he felt her step away from him and out of his touch. He frowned. He had just prevented her from fainting in the courtyard, sparing her the humiliation of doing so and instead of being grateful, she was annoyed at him. _Gods this woman. Everything he did annoyed her._ Was she stupid? Did she not understand the importance of an alliance with the Freys? Did she not understand that getting rid of the last of the Tullys would achieve peace? _Of course not, she's still only a child,_ a voice snarled at him.

Sansa stepped away from him but remained in the courtyard, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to return in doors but didn't want to ask him, not when he had just discussed the planned murder of her mother's uncle in front of her. _Gods, she hated him!_ Was it possible to hate the man who gave her so much pleasure? She blushed at the thought.

"My lady…" She turned to him. "You are permitted to return indoors. I have some matters to attend to… I will see you at dinner." He concluded before going inside. Those matters were the houses that still needed to declare themselves for House Bolton.

Sansa remained in the courtyard for several moments contemplating what to do. She was supposed to spend an hour riding but she was feeling defiant. So what if she delayed their arrival at Winterfell? It wasn't the Winterfell she knew anyways. No she wasn't going riding today. Instead, she returned to her room. Her maid was tidying up when she arrived. Still disgusted with Lord Bolton, Sansa suddenly had an idea. She asked the maid to find her some blue, red and silver fabric. If Lord Bolton wanted rid of the Tullys, he would have to kill her too. It took the maid some time which Sansa spent reading and when she returned Sansa told her to remove all of the dresses in her wardrobe that were not in either Stark or Tully colours. That left her wardrobe quite empty but it wouldn't be for long. She spent the rest of the day creating new dresses and embroidering the Tully and Stark sigils on to her existing dresses.

It was late afternoon when Tyrion paid her a visit. Apparently, he had spent some time in council with Lord Bolton as he would be returning to King's Landing the next day.

"I don't think angering your husband is a good way to deal with your grief." He mused, partly smirking.

"I'm not intentionally angering him…"

"Really?" He asked gesturing to the dresses that were strewn across the solar.

"I needed new dresses." She shrugged.

"Regardless… angering him will not help nor will it bring your family back…"

"You mean the family that he killed and continues to kill?"

"My lady… as some point you will have to move past that if you want your marriage to at least be bearable." How was she supposed to move past it? Her _husband_ killed her brother and married her as a reward for doing so. He married her for the North but from the maid had told her, some of the North was still in defiance to him. She smiled at that. At least the war hadn't turned them all into traitors.

Roose sighed. Was she really missing dinner again? Tonight there would be consequences for it, last night he had been too fuelled by lust for his young bride. Tonight though, her defiance would not be unpunished. He would soon break her defiant streak and have her bent to his will. Roose smirked at the thought of how he would do that. He was so consumed by these thoughts that he didn't realise Sansa had entered the room wearing one of her Stark dresses. She had asked the maid to keep them and hide them in a place that Lord Bolton wouldn't see them. No matter what he tried, he would not erase the Stark within her. House Stark existed and continued through her even if she was House Bolton by marriage. All eyes were on her as she entered the hall, mouths open and shock laced across their features. Tyrion smiled at her as she caught his eye. Lord Bolton had yet to notice her and so she continued her walk across the room to her seat next to him. It was only when she sat down that he realised her presence.

Turning to her, he spoke "My lady, it's good of you to join us…"

"The company is more agreeable this evening…" Sansa replied blazély, she could feel his eyes on her studying her intently. He was about to notice her attire, she mused hiding her smirk. Within seconds, his demeanour changed and his eyes narrowed. Sansa swallowed.

"How long do you intend to defy me for, my lady?" He whispered in her eye, his breath sending sparks throughout her body. She turned to him and smiled sweetly.

"My lord?"

"Don't play coy, we both know that I asked your maid to remove that dress from your possession." She could feel his breath on her ear and it was causing a heat to pool in the pit of her stomach. "I could remove it right here." He threatened, placing his hand on the lowest button of the dress, slowly undoing it. Sansa swallowed. Roose's hands moved to the button higher up.

"My lord…" Sansa squeaked. His hands stilled.

"I won't but if you wear any of the dresses that I forbade again, do not make the mistake of thinking I will be so generous." She nodded. Sansa wasn't sure which was worse: his threat to humiliate her or the effect he was having on her. How was it possible to hate a man yet desire him to? Why did she want him so badly? He was the man who had destroyed her family and kept reminding her of that fact. How could he make her feel the way he did?

"You can order new dresses…" Lord Bolton said. His hand moving up her back to her neck. "But I suggest you choose the colours carefully." It gently brushed across the skin before he reached for a loose lock of her hair. His hand played with it. "I'm trusting you… do not disappoint me." Sansa swallowed again. Perhaps her earlier plan wasn't such a good idea.

"My lord, might I have a word?" Lyanna Mormont asked with all the strength she could muster. Roose was alone, Sansa not long having retired. He had been about to follow her after finishing his conversation with Tyrion when Lyanna Mormont stopped him. Roose gestured for her to take Sansa's vacant seat. She obliged. Roose narrowed his eyes waiting for her to continue.

"My lord, House Mormont wishes to swear allegiance to House Bolton and supports your claim as Warden of the North…" His jaw nearly dropped.

"Why?"

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell… I was reminded tonight that there will be." That bloody dress! "House Stark and House Bolton are one now and therefore House Mormont's allegiance to House Stark falls to House Bolton too." For a young girl, she was certainly politically capable.

"Very well… tomorrow." Roose declared. House Mormont had been one of the first to support Robb Stark as King of the North and were one of the most loyal vassal houses of House Stark. They had lost much by his hand at the Red Wedding. Perhaps if House Mormont was prepared to swear loyalty, the other less stubborn and less loyal to House Stark houses would also swear loyalty. And it was all because Sansa had decided to defy and wear that stupid dress. Perhaps she was in fact the key to the North. _Gods, he hated being wrong!_ He would have to let her keep one of the dresses… just until every house had sworn allegiance.

Just as he was standing to leave, Maester Rhodry approached him.

"What is it?"

"My lord, there's a raven from Ramsay…"


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N:/ So in this chapter I messed around and changed some of the actual events to fit the plot. Enjoy.**

Chapter 8

Just as he was standing to leave, Maester Rhodry approached him.

"What is it?"

"My lord, there's a raven from Ramsay…" Roose narrowed his eyes. He had sent Ramsay to Moat Cailin a little over a week ago to take it back from the Ironborn. He couldn't have defeated them already. Perhaps he was requesting more men or announcing that he had been defeated and Roose was going to have to step in. Either way, he led the Maester of the hall and to his study where he was handed the message. He couldn't risk any of the remaining Northern lords from discovering its contents, not yet anyways.

Roose was right. Ramsay had failed to take Moat Cailin and had lost Theon Greyjoy to the Ironborn army that was resided at the garrison. He was livid. He had planned to trade Theon Greyjoy for Moat Cailin and Ramsay had messed that up. And now he had failed to take it by force. Ramsay had lost a valuable hostage and the Ironborn forces would unite under their prince making the task of retrieving Moat Cailin even more difficult than it should have been. Roose needed Moat Cailin to secure the North from Southern invasion which would strengthen his hold on the North. How could Ramsay have been stupid enough to trust that Theon Greyjoy was his man? Robb Stark had made exactly the same mistake and in return Theon Greyjoy had taken Winterfell and supposedly killed Bran and Rickon Stark. And Roose had actually considered legitimising Ramsay if he had succeeded. With Locke away, he was going to have to take command of his forces and lead the siege on Moat Cailin not that he planned for it to last long. Banefort was a skilled commander and Roose had trusted him to lead the men to King's Landing to retrieve Sansa but he was not skilled enough lead a siege. No, Roose was going to have to do this himself.

The message ended with Ramsay congratulating his father on his wedding and stating that he was returning to the Dreadfort. If Ramsay returned, it would mean leaving Sansa with him. The thought of that made him feel uncomfortable as did the thought of leaving her at all. Perhaps he would send Ramsay to Winterfell, he could oversee the rebuilding.

"Send for Banefort…" Roose announced, taking a seat behind his desk.

"Very good, my lord…" The maester replied, leaving the room and leaving Roose alone. Roose placed a piece of parchment in front of him and removed the quill from the ink well. Yes, he would send Ramsay to Winterfell. Hopefully that way, he would feel more at ease regarding Sansa and the rebuilding of Winterfell would be finished more quickly if Ramsay was there to crack the whip. He penned the letter to Ramsay instructing him to go to Winterfell instead of the Dreadfort and just as he was finished, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in…"

"My lord…"

"Ramsay has failed to defeat the Ironborn at Moat Cailin… we ride out tomorrow…" Lord Bolton stated. He saw the man raised his eyebrows and Roose narrowed his eyes. Was he really going to question his lord?

"Very good, my lord. Are the rest of the men still there?"

"No, we will meet them on the road, they are on their way here I believe."

"I will ready the rest of the men, my lord." Banefort said, Roose nodded and gestured for him to leave. Then he too left the study in search of a squire. Sending the missive by messenger would be quicker and easier than by raven and there was more of a guarantee that it would arrive. He planned for Ramsay to remain on the King's Road whilst the men made camp wherever they were. Then he would ride out on the morrow to meet them before they all journeyed to Moat Cailin. Finding a squire he trusted took longer than he expected and by the time he was finally ready to retire to bed and to his beautiful, young wife, he was exhausted.

Sansa was bored. She was sitting by the fire, a book in her lap but was not really paying attention to the words. She had been lying in the bed waiting for Lord Bolton to retire for the evening but had given up on him some time ago and had relocated to the chair by the fire. Disappointment and frustration were beginning to consume her. She had wanted him since he threatened to remove her dress at dinner and the longer she waited, the more she did. It was as though there was a deep longing for him within her and she hated herself for it but she couldn't stop it. Sansa sighed returning her attention to the words in front of her trying to concentrate on what they said. She would read until the end of the page and then she would blow the candles out and go to sleep she decided. If he eventually came to bed and she was asleep, well that was his own fault and he didn't have the right to be angry. After every sentence, Sansa looked to the door, hoping it would open and he would walk in. It didn't. The sound of footsteps in the corridor had her heart racing as she prayed they would stop at the door. They didn't. She even considered asking one of the guards to find him but decided against it. Lord Bolton would be angry at her for ordering him about and the guards had seen her in her night gown too many times already. By the time Sansa reached the last word on the page, she was no longer lusting after her husband. Instead, she was annoyed. She had dinner early on purpose so that he would follow her to bed. She had waited over an hour for him and he still wasn't here. _This was so unfair_ , she huffed. How dare he make her want him, the man who had killed her brother, and then leave her longing. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling but she knew that she wanted what only her husband could give her. Only he could satisfy her and yet he was not to do so. She sighed, standing up and placing the book she had been reading on the chair so that he knew she had been awake for some time before finally going to sleep.

It was some time after, that the sound of the door opening roused Sansa from her sleep. She kept her eyes shut as she heard Roose walk to the bed, removing his clothes as he did so.

"Sansa…" He whispered into the darkness of the room. She ignored it. "Sansa…" He whispered again, climbing into bed beside her. Still she ignored it. He placed his lips next to her ear and she could feel every breath he took against her skin. "Sansa…" He whispered a finally time. She ignored it. Suddenly Sansa's eyes opened in shock as she felt two of his fingers enter her. He gently moved them back and forth to ensure that she was definitely awake and to stop her from ignoring him. Sansa turned over to face him and he removed his fingers. Sansa moaned in frustration.

"Soon, wife." He replied. "First we need to talk."

"We do?"

"Yes… I've had word from my bastard Ramsay, he failed to take Moat Cailin. I have to leave tomorrow to succeed where he failed."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes… it shouldn't take long. I will leave some men here for your protection and the last of the wedding guests will be leaving within the week."

"What of Ramsay?" She wasn't sure why she asked it but before she could stop them, the words had left her mouth. Of course she had heard the stories of Ramsay Snow, what he did to women.

"I'm sending him to Winterfell…" Sansa was glad they were in the dark, glad that he couldn't see her shocked face. There were rumours around the Dreadfort that it was Ramsay who had sacked Winterfell and burnt it to the ground. Why would Lord Bolton send his bastard son to oversee the rebuilding of the castle that he may have destroyed? She was also partly relieved that Ramsay wouldn't be coming to the Dreadfort whilst she was on her own there.

"Thank you…" She whispered. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I'm leaving the Dreadfort under your command." Roose had considered leaving a castellan but changed his mind when he had remembered why Lyanna Mormont had declared allegiance to House Bolton. Perhaps leaving Sansa in charge would remind a few other houses that Sansa was the last Stark and their allegiance to House Stark continued to her and her husband. "Do not disappoint me." Sansa nodded not that he could see her doing it. "But for tonight…" He said, running a hand down her side to her thigh where it caressed the skin for a few moments before it travelled up to her hip. Roose turned her over onto her back and climbed on top of her. His fingers gripped the material of her night dress pulling it over her head. He placed a trail of kisses down her sternum leaving goose bumps in their wake before climbing off her and the bed. Sansa moaned. Roose smirked. He walked to the window and opened the curtains allowing some of the natural light and light of the fires outside to filter into the room. He wanted to see her. Sansa shivered. Within seconds, Roose was back on top of her. Her eyes slowly shut as she felt him brush his lips against her own; it was slow and gentle yet full of longing. Sansa smiled against his lips at the thought that he wanted her just as must as she wanted him. Roose pulled away from her noting her smile with raised eyebrows but Sansa placed her hands on his neck pulling his face back towards his own. He followed her demand, lowering his mouth to hers and capturing it. Before long, his tongue was fighting its way into her mouth, she obliged. Their tongues tangoed and twisted, battling for dominance. Sansa gasped as she felt his hand take hold of a breast, his gentle caress causing the wetness to form between her thighs. Roose's other hand slowly slid down her body, over her abdomen to her thigh. He could feel how wet she was on his fingertips and he smiled. She shuddered as he placed a finger inside of her. Sansa bit into his shoulder as his hands touched her core sending pleasurable waves through her body. Roose was becoming more and more aroused at the sight of his wanton wife withering beneath him. It wouldn't be long before he lost control but he was determined to have her climax at least once before he entered her. Judging by how wet she was, that wouldn't be too difficult. Roose removed his mouth from hers and placed it at her entrance. His tongue darted out, tasting the wetness seeping out of her. Sansa leaned into him, gasping and shuddering at the pleasure he was giving her. Within minutes, her muscles were contracting sending her into a euphoria, the like of which she had never experienced. As she came down from her high, Roose thrust into her. In… out. In…out. In…out. She was screaming out his name, begging for release as she crept ever closer to a second orgasm. He lost all control now, thrusting deeper and faster until his own release took hold. They came at the same time and he collapsed against her, both breathing deeply. Then he rolled off her. She pulled the furs over their naked bodies and shuffled towards her husband, smiling at his lack of objection when she leaned against him.

"Sansa…" Roose whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Sansa…" She stirred but then returned to her slumber. He smirked, her actions reminding him somewhat of last night. In a similar manner to the previous night, he placed a finger into her brushing it along her core. She jolted awake and he almost laughed.

"My lord…" she questioned, unsure of what it was he wanted.

"I'm leaving soon… I want you dressed, breakfasted and in the courtyard before I leave." She nodded. He kissed her temple again before climbing out of the bed. Quickly, he dressed as Sansa closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Sansa!" She groaned as for the second time that morning he woke her up.

"Fine…" She mumbled pulling the furs off her still naked body and grabbing her robe from the chair it was residing on; she put it on and tied the string around her waist. Roose walked up behind, placing his hands on her waist and brushing his lips on the sensitive part of her neck. She gasped and moaned at the contact. "You've got half an hour." He said kissing her neck one final time before walking out of the room. Half an hour? That wasn't very long at all. Sansa decided to skip breakfast, she would make up for it at luncheon, she mused. She was yet to face the true extent of Lord Bolton's wrath and she didn't want it to be that morning that she did, not when last night had been so good. Sansa quickly sent for a maid.

Before long, she was standing in the courtyard, the cold air whipping through her hair sending a chill down her spine. She had actually made it there before Lord Bolton and she was proud of herself for that. The courtyard around her was alive with activity: everyone was preparing for the departure of their lord and his men. Sansa stood there awkwardly, no doubt in the way and feeling helpless. She considered offering to help but she doubted there was anything she could do and she didn't know how long Lord Bolton would be. So she remained where she was, every so often moving out of the way of a servant or squire or guard or knight. Sansa wasn't sure how long she was stood there but it definitely felt like more than half an hour had passed between him leaving her in their bed chamber and him arriving in the courtyard. She could've had breakfast after all, she huffed. Roose ignored her to begin with; he was talking with the knight who had brought her from King's Landing, she couldn't remain his name. At last, his attention turned to her.

"My lady…"

"My lord…"

"I will not be away too long." He informed her and she nodded.

"Do you have to go?" She asked, biting her lip. She wasn't going to miss him but she would miss him being in her bed. Nothing had changed, she still hated him, she just lusted after him too.

"Yes." He said. She nodded.

"I wish you luck, my lord and I will pray for your safe return." She said remembering the courtesies she had been taught as a child.

"I'm sorry." Roose whispered into her ear as she placed a farewell kiss on his cheek.

"What for?" She whispered back.

"Killing your brother." Before Sansa had time to process what he had just said, he mounted the horse, gave orders to the men and was riding out of the gate leading his men to battle leaving Sansa stood in the courtyard. Her mind was spinning uncontrollably, all sense of reality deserted her. _I'm sorry for killing your brother._

 **A.N:/ Ok, so I have two ideas for Ramsay's storyline and I don't know which to choose so the decision is yours. Option 1: He does as he's told and goes to Winterfell and "something" happens which tests Sansa's loyalties to Roose. Option 2: Instead of going to Winterfell, he goes to the Dreadfort and meets Sansa. Send me an inbox with your choice and I will go with the majority.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N:/ Sorry for the delay.**

Chapter 9

The words echoed in Sansa's mind playing over and over again. All day. Everyday. Roose had left just over a week ago and she was still plagued by his parting gift as much as she had been the day he said it. What was she supposed to do with his apology? He clearly didn't mean it. How could he? Killing Robb had given him the North, he couldn't be sorry about that no matter how much he enjoyed her in bed. Why say it? She had already proven that she wasn't the naïve, obedient child Cersei had claimed she was. He knew that she wouldn't believe it, so why say it? Roose Bolton did not do things for the sake of doing it. Sansa was frustrated. She had hardly slept this past week and this night was no different. Dawn was not far off and she was still wide awake. _Gods that man!_ He certainly knew how to infuriate her. Perhaps he did it on purpose knowing that it would result in her thinking about constantly. The problem was that it was exhausting her. Sansa had spent the day looking over the Dreadfort books, checking the expenditure or lack of it, she mused. She had conversed with the remaining lords who she had invited to stay longer in an attempt to win them over to her husband's side and had even spent a good few hours riding; all of which were done to tire her out. It had succeeded but still sleep had forsaken her. How was it possible that a few words could do this to her? She needed to find a way to distract herself or to forget about what he had said, if only to spare her body further exhaustion. That is what she had been doing though and so far, it hadn't made a difference. Perhaps what she needed to do was accept that he was sorry. But how could he be?

She groaned, pulling the furs over her head.

"My lady…" Sansa had just been out riding and was returning her horse to the stables when she happened upon Tyrion. She hadn't seen him much since Roose had left and had almost forgotten that he was actually still staying with her. She frowned: why was he still here? He had come to discuss something with Lord Bolton but he was no longer here so why was Tyrion?

"My lord…" She smiled.

"How are you?"

"I'm well…" She replied. Tyrion frowned, noting the dark circles under her eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "I just… it's just something Lord Bolton said… it's been bothering me. That's all."

"What did he say?"

"He apologised for killing Robb." Tyrion did a double take. Roose Bolton had _actually_ apologised for doing something that would lead to his advantage. That was a rare thing indeed. Perhaps the young Sansa Stark was having more of an effect on Lord Bolton than anyone expected or could have predicted.

"Why is that bothering you?"

"You think he means it?" The shock was evident in her voice.

"What I think is irrelevant but Lord Bolton doesn't apologise often… and even if he doesn't mean it, he wants you to think he does. That is perhaps a great deal more important." Tyrion said, walking away from her. _He wants you to think he means it._ Perhaps Tyrion was right. Perhaps it didn't matter what Lord Bolton had done or would go on to do with her by his side. Perhaps it didn't matter that he had done unforgivable things. Perhaps the genuity of his apology didn't matter. Perhaps it was his motive that mattered. But that in itself created even more questions for Sansa. Why did he want her to think him sorry? Why would he care? Why _should_ he care? He was Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort. _But he did care,_ she mused. And that made her care.

Sansa left the stables in rather a hurry, returning to her chambers. Once there, she found her maid but not the parchment that she was looking for. The maid suggested she look in Lord Bolton's study. It felt wrong at first, it was his private space. But after a few hours, she finally gave in.

There was only one other time that she had been in his study and that day, she had been too angry at him to take any notice. Now on greater inspection, she saw the room in its entirety.

Sitting in _his_ seat behind the desk, Sansa took a sheet of parchment from the pile and _his_ quill from the inkwell.

 _Lord Bolton,_

 _Everything here is in the same condition as you left it. Both House Manderly and House Glover swore fealty to House Bolton and to you before they left the Dreadfort and returned to their respective castles. I hope your campaign is going well and that you will be returning soon._

 _Thank you for your apology._

 _I continue to pray for your swift victory and safe return._

 _Sansa._

She had written and rewritten it almost ten times before she was satisfied with the words. In truth, she only wanted to write it so that she had responded to his apology. Sansa had in a few drafts written the words 'I forgive you' but had left it out of later editions opting for 'thank you' instead; she didn't want to write something she didn't mean and she wasn't sure if she did forgive him or if she ever would. The informal end to her letter was meant as a peace offering to him and also an olive branch. She had decided that Tyrion was right and that meant Lord Bolton didn't want there to be any unresolved issues between them. Sansa had also decided that she wanted her marriage to be some sort of a success; she would give Lord Bolton children and would no doubt be Lady Bolton for some time and she didn't want to be miserable. If her mother had been able to marry the brother of her decreased fiancé in the midst of war and whilst still grieving, Sansa could make something of her marriage. She had after all been intended to marry Joffrey and he killed her father despite offering him mercy. Lord Bolton in a way had saved her from that fate and so she supposed that she was in a way grateful to him for that. Not that she would ever admit to that.

The reply came a few days later, quicker than she was expecting. She retreated to his study to read it. It had become her sanctuary the past few days where she dealt with the expenditure and any missives that arrived. Most of her time was spent dealing with the rebuilding of Winterfell. The castellan there seemed to Sansa completely incapable of doing the job; in every missive he sent to her, he reported on the status of the building and then asked her permission to do more. She didn't know anything about building so she agreed to everything he asked for; they had the money after all since Lord Bolton hardly spent anything.

 _Sansa,_

 _It pleases me to know that you are doing your duty. The campaign was a success and I have taken Moat Cailin; the North is ours. Once everything is sorted here, I will return. Judging by the lack of mention of Ramsay in your letter I trust he obeyed my orders and travelled to Winterfell._

 _Roose._

Doing her duty? She hadn't done anything other than wear the dresses that he had forbidden, the Lords had chosen to swear fealty of their own accord. The conversations she had had with them were about her family and the past, her marriage and Lord Bolton had not been discussed with anyone. Perhaps if he believed that she had, he would be proud of her. Or perhaps not- it was her _duty_ after all. Still, he had left the titles off both of their names and that was promising. It meant that he saw her more than just a political wife, didn't it? And he had defeated the Ironborn! Sorting out Moat Cailin wouldn't take long, it was not much more than a ruin. That meant he would be returning soon; she had missed him or at least had missed having sex with him. She wasn't sure whether she had actually missed his presence; aside from the nights, they hadn't spent much time together since they had married and most of it was tainted by one or both of them being annoyed. Once he returned, she would change that. If her marriage was going to resemble anything of what Ned and Catelyn Stark had had, Sansa was going to have to get to know her husband and he was going to have to get to know her, no matter how much he didn't want to. He certainly enjoyed her company during the night and he had _insisted_ more than once that she joined him for dinner. So, perhaps he was beginning to enjoy having her around or at least he was beginning to accept it. She was definitely looking forward to his return. But the news also brought sadness to her heart. Lord Tyrion had promised that he would say until Lord Bolton returned, their business having already concluded. So her husband was returning but her friend was leaving her. After Roose had dismissed Shae, Sansa had had no-one, but the past few weeks, Tyrion had become a great friend to her and she frequently sought him out once she had finished her duties for the day. But now he was leaving and she would be without any friends again. She had considered writing to Margaery but wasn't sure if it was a good idea. Lord Bolton hadn't said she couldn't but neither had he permitted and she didn't know how many people would read it before the Queen-to-be. Regardless, writing to Margaery wasn't going to fill the void that would return once Tyrion had left; she was too far away and the letters would take too long to get to her and too long for a reply. There was always her maid, she had been quite loyal so far unlike the previous but she was in the employ of Lord Bolton and her loyalty to him would override her loyalty to Sansa. Had he done this to her on purpose? Did he want her dependent on him? Did he want her to feel so alone? Surely not? The man who cared enough to apologise couldn't want that. Still, it wasn't his fault that Tyrion was leaving, he was needed in King's Landing. She would have her lord husband. There was always Roose's son, he was closer to Sansa in age. She shuddered then chided herself for it. Stories were always exaggerated to make them seem scarier, perhaps that's what had happened with the stories of Ramsay. For one, she doubted Roose would allow him to act in that way. Yes, he was cold and cruel but he cared about the reputation of his house and Sansa did not believe that he would let Ramsay ruin it. Still, you didn't get the reputation Ramsay had without substance. Maybe Ramsay wasn't the solution to her impending loneliness. Perhaps Lord Bolton would let her send for Shae now that he was warming towards his wife. She would ask him when he returned, she decided.

Sansa read his reply one last time before reaching for a sheet of parchment and a quill to begin her response. As her hand removed the quill from its inkwell, she noticed a letter lying on the desk hidden beneath an old dusty book. At first, she thought nothing of it until her eyes came across the word Rickon. Her heart stopped momentarily. Did Roose know where her brother was? Quickly, she lifted the book from where it was laying and placed it out of the way. Then she picked up the parchment, her eyes scanning the words at the bottom of the page. It was from Tywin Lannister. Sansa frowned. Why were the two communicating with one another? The answer lay in the words above.

 _I have given you the North and the 'key' to it, I don't care how you take. If you think killing all living Starks (including Bran and Rickon Stark if they are still alive) and their relations will you bring you the most success, then do so. I'm sure Walder Frey would let you have Edmure Tully._

Sansa's jaw dropped.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N:/ This was incredibly difficult to write and I apologise for the lack of Sansa and Roose.**

Chapter 10

Ramsay flinched as a cold wind whistled past him as he stood on what remained of Winterfell's battlements. _Gods he had certainly done a number on the place._ Had he known that his father was going to insist on ruling the North from Winterfell, perhaps he wouldn't have burnt it completely to the ground. That was a lie, he would've done it anyways: he had enjoyed seeing the seat of the almighty House Stark burn to ash. Had he known his father was going to send him there as punishment for Moat Cailin and the actions of the traitorous turncoat, he wouldn't have destroyed the castle. Now he was sorely regretting taking such enjoyment from it. The man his father had put in charge seemed to be a complete imbecile who was continuously sending letters to the Dreadfort asking permission for this and that. Ramsay had told him on numerous occasions that his father wasn't there so couldn't respond but somehow the man seemed to be receiving replies as quickly as he sent them. He suspected that his father's new young wife was responsible and that would no doubt annoy his father when he found out; he smiled at that. She was a Stark, he hated her on principle. That smile turned into pure glee at the thought of Lord Bolton returning here soon with her. It had been her home but now the place would be unrecognisable. The poor girl would be so happy to be returning home and as soon as they rode into the courtyard, that happiness would be crushed. If only Lord Bolton would bring her here before it was finished, now _that_ would be worth seeing. Apparently, she had succeeded in getting some of the more resistant houses to swear their allegiances to his father as Warden of the North but he believed it was her Stark blood and not herself that had achieved that. After all the heir to Winterfell through Sansa Stark would also be the next Lord Bolton. Perhaps he would remind his father of that fact.

"Sir?" The Castellan addressed Ramsay. "Is something not to your liking?"

"No…" He replied. "I was just curious as to why it is taking so long. I have been here three days now and there has been little progress." He exaggerated slightly.

"Lord Bolton asked us to use the squatters that we discovered here: they aren't very skilled."

"I see…" He smiled. "Have you tried threatening to flay them?" The man's mouth fell open. "Perhaps you should." Ramsay shrugged before walking off. Why was everyone surprised when he mentioned flaying? What did they expect, it was the sigil of House Bolton? Lord Bolton did it occasionally and no-one seemed to flinch except perhaps the _noble_ Starks and look what happened to them. _Gods he was bored._ This was indeed a punishment for Moat Cailin. He should've brought Myranda with him. He would've taken her to Moat Cailin if he had known he was going to end up at Winterfell.

"Or better yet…" Ramsay turned back to the Castellan. "You _could_ flay one of them… that might speed it up."

Ramsay heard the steward's announcement but it wasn't until Lord Umber walked into the temporary hall that he believed what he was hearing. The _great_ Lord Umber was one of the only lords who hadn't yet sworn allegiance to House Bolton and so to see him here was a surprise.

"Lord Umber... I thought you were the last lord." Ramsay teased. " The only one not to swear allegiance to my father and his Stark bride. Or rather swear allegiance to the Stark." The man said nothing. "I find it strange that you couldn't be tempted by her Stark blood. After all, you and your house have always been notoriously loyal to House Stark. Wasn't it you who crowned Robb Stark?"  
"Aye, I was... but it's time for new blood in the North."  
"If you want to swear allegiance, you will have to travel to the Dreadfort."  
"I don't but I do have something Lord Bolton might want..." Ramsay's eyes narrowed. What could Umber possibly have that Lord Bolton would want? The old man gestured to the manservant beside him, who left the room and returned with two figures both tied up and blindfolded.  
"I believe your father is looking for confirmation that the Stark boys are dead... I can confirm that one lives." Ramsay smirked, if he was the one to hand the Stark boy to his father instead of Locke, it would erase his failure at Moat Cailin. The manservant removed the blindfolds to reveal a young boy and a girl.  
"Do you have proof that this is who you say he is?" Umber brought his hands in front of his body and tossed the head of a dire wolf across the floor.  
"There's your proof that this is Rickon Stark." Ramsay smirked.  
"My Lord..." Ramsay taunted. "It seems you're going on a journey..." he turned to his own manservant "Prepare an escort to the Dreadfort, Lord Bolton will want him alive. And what Lord Umber do you want in return?"

"House Bolton's support when Stannis Baratheon marches South to King's Landing from the Wall. He will attack us first…"

"I could just kill you here and take the boy…"

"You could but Lord Bolton does not want a war with House Umber and you might find yourself abandoned to the rest of House Umber." The man retaliated, he was not afraid of Ramsay Bolton. "If you'd prefer it… I can take my men and the boy to the Dreadfort and present him to Lord Bolton myself." Ramsay narrowed his eyes. The man was being serious. Ramsay could not have that.

"You could but why travel all that way to be greeted by Sansa Stark? Lord Bolton's at Moat Cailin…" Umber flinched at the mention of Sansa and Ramsay smiled. Perhaps the man's allegiance to the Stark's wasn't completely dead in the water. No matter, Ramsay would bring a swift end to it. "Unless you wish to present Lady Bolton with her youngest brother… but I don't think _that_ situation would please my father at all… not when he wants the Stark boys dead and House Stark finished." Umber shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of meeting Sansa Stark. There was a part of him that felt guilty that he had survived the Red Wedding and Robb Stark hadn't.

"Very well, you can have the boy…" Umber said. "But I expect Lord Bolton to send men as soon as Stannis Baratheon leaves the Wall."

"Certainly." Ramsay replied. The two men shook hands and then Lord Umber exited the room leaving Rickon Stark, the last true born son of Eddard Stark and the last true born heir to Winterfell with the Mad Dog. Ramsay remained where he was scrutinising the young boy in front of him who was terrified. The girl, he ordered, was to be put to work; he would have fun with her later.

"Tell me, _Lord Stark_ , was is it about Stark blood that makes you so noble, so superior to other houses?" Rickon swallowed but was too afraid to answer. "Shall we find out? Shall we peel some skin and find out?" _Gods he wanted to so badly._ But he couldn't, his father had been furious when he had flayed Theon Greyjoy and Rickon Stark was far more valuable than Theon. "Hmmm… you're a quiet one aren't you… I wonder if I flayed you whether you would remain this quiet." Why wasn't he responding? This wasn't any fun. Ramsay was so tempted to pick up the flaying knife that was conveniently laying on the table, so tempted.

"Sir, the escort is ready…" the manservant walked into the room, addressing Ramsay.

"Well, _my lord_ it seems our time together is at an end." He smirked, the boy flinched. "Keep him alive, at least until you get to the Dreadfort and my father has seen him. And make sure Lady Bolton doesn't happen on him…" The man nodded, took Rickon by the arm and led him out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N:/ Sorry for the really long gap between chapters. I had writer's block for a while and lost my muse and then life got in the way. I do however intend to finish this fic so please be patient with me if there are delays between updates.**

**Chapter 11**

"My lady..." The maid's gentle voice roused Sansa from what had been another restless sleep. It had been quite some time since she had suffered from nightmares and yet they had returned once she had discovered the missive from Tywin Lannister to her husband. Sighing, she opened her eyes and rolled over to face the maid.

"There's a messenger from Lord Bolton." Her heart momentarily stopped. Had something happened to him? Was he delayed? Maybe he wouldn't be returning so soon after all. In haste, Sansa dismissed the maid before grabbing her robe that was draped across the stool. She quickly put it on, then left the room almost running to the great hall.

The room was empty save for the man wearing the livery of House Bolton. Upon hearing the door open and gentle footsteps on the stone floor, he turned to face the wife of his lord; he was somewhat taken aback by her dishevelled and slightly inappropriate state of dress but he was able to quickly disguise his emotion.

"Lady Bolton..." he said when as she stopped in front of him. Sansa took a deep breath.

"I believe you have a message for me from Lord Bolton?" She tried to sound ladylike but could not stop the hammering of her heart.

"He is but a few hours ride away, my lady. He sent me ahead to prepare you for his arrival." What? A few hours away… how was that possible? He couldn't be. It took longer than that to reach the Dreadfort from Moat Cailin, didn't it? No, it was too soon… he could not be back today. She still hadn't processed what she had read in _that_ letter; there was too many things swimming around in her head. He could not be back today.

"Lady Bolton… did you hear what I said?" Her mind snapped out of its thoughts at the sound of his voice; she had forgotten he was even there.

"Perhaps you could repeat it, I thought you said that Lord Bolton would be back today."

"No, my lady, you heard me correctly." The words came like a knife to her heart. Sansa composed herself and smiled sweetly at the man in front of her.

"Thank you… you may go now." She dismissed him swiftly before making a hasty exit out of the hall.

Sansa returned to her room, quickly dressing herself in the first thing she found which coincidently, was the dress her husband so detested. Then she left the room, running down the corridor. She kept running, turning down various corridors until she felt the cold air on her face. It was bitter against the exposed skin and she shivered. In her haste to get out of the castle, she had forgotten to wear a coat and now she was regretting her frantic decision. Still, she couldn't turn back now. Instead, she made her way to the stables. The young stable-hand was there grooming her horse when she arrived.

"Lady Bolton..."

"I am going riding." She stated.

"Of course..." He replied, unsure of what to do. She raised her eyebrows at him. Realising Sansa had meant now, he rushed around to find a saddle for the horse, before saddling it and handing Sansa the reins.

"If anyone asks where I am, tell them not to come looking for me."

* * *

It was mid afternoon when Lord Bolton's host returned to the Dreadfort. A sense of relief washed over Roose as his horse pulled into the courtyard; it had been a tiring journey and a relentless campaign caused by Ramsay's stupidity and inability to be useful. Ramsay's failings had been mounting up (perhaps it would be less hassle to kill the boy than deal with his constant mistakes) but this one had particularly ired him. It had taken him away from his new wife's bed (hopefully Ramsay was suffering in Winterfell for it). At the thought of his wife, Roose's eyes searched for her. He had deliberately send word ahead of his impending arrival so she would greet him in the courtyard and yet there was no sign of her. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the people in front of him. She was definitely absent. Relief was quickly replaced with frustration. Sansa had to have an exceptional reason for the lack of her presence or he was going to be furious with her. And if this was another of her little games… well… he was not playing this time.

Roose brought his horse to a stop and dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy. Upon reaching the spot where Maester Rhodry was stood, he raised his eyebrow in question.

"My lord, welcome back. I trust you had a successful campaign. Lady Bolton went riding early this morning and has not returned since." Roose narrowed his eyes slightly at the older man in front of him.

"This morning?" The maester nodded. "Did no-one think to find her?"

"Well… my lord..." Maester Rhodry shuffled on his feet. "She told us not to."

"When exactly did she leave?"

"Shortly after your messenger arrived, I believe." That was several hours ago. Where was she? Sansa was not a keen rider or a good rider for that matter. It did not make sense.

"Did no-one question her safety?" It wasn't a question. He turned back to Banefort "Find Lady Bolton." And with that Roose went indoors. He headed straight for his study, keen to get on with any matters that had arisen during his absence.

He was still there some time later when he was interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Enter." At first he thought it would be Banefort informing him that Sansa had been found and returned so he was surprised when it was in fact Locke who entered. "Locke..."

"It seems sending me to find Rickon Stark was a futile endeavour..." Lord Bolton narrowed his eyes. "A host of men have just arrived from Winterfell… with Rickon Stark."

Roose frowned. "Are you telling me that Ramsay sacked Winterfell but is so incapable e of doing anything that he failed to notice that Rickon Stark was not only still alive but within the castle?"

"I am unaware of the details, all I know is that Rickon Stark and a host of Bolton men have just arrived from Winterfell." Roose's first thought was Sansa. His second was her reaction if she saw her brother. The third thought that crossed his mind was how difficult disposing of him would be if Sansa was reunited with Rickon.

"For now… take him to the dungeons. See that he is fed and comfortable."

"My lord." Locke said before exiting the room and leaving Lord Bolton alone with his thoughts. His initial plan had been to marry Sansa, take the North and dispose of all other Starks. Now he was beginning to question whether that was the best course of action. Rickon Stark had a claim to Winterfell and as such had a claim to Warden of the North. Even married to Sansa, his claim would be unlikely to stand against Rickon's. But it was his wife's brother and Roose had, on their wedding night, promised he would not hurt her. If she ever found out that he had killed Rickon, she was unlikely to ever forgive him. _You're Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort,_ _Warden of the North. A woman does not dictate your actions, regardless of_ _how_ _much you enjoy her._ A tiny voice whispered to him. It was right. He was Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Warden of the North. The feelings of Sansa Stark… Bolton, he corrected himself, would not make this decision for him.

Rickon Stark was not what Lord Bolton had expected. Although he had not met the youngest Stark before and so had very little expectations, he was surprised by what he saw. The last surviving male heir to the ancestral seat of the almighty Starks was a scrawny boy. His appearance was a mess but Roose put that down to months as a fugitive and the uncomfortable ride from Winterfell. Aside from these factors, he was a weak boy; not at all what Roose would have expected from a Stark and Tully union. He almost felt pity for the child. Almost. Despite his age and weak manner, this child was still the biggest threat to Roose's rule of the North.

"Lord Stark..." The child looked up at what was no doubt an unfamiliar title; the title which had not so long ago belonged to his older brother and his father before that. "I don't believe we've met..."

"I know who you are."

"Indeed." Roose smirked. His defiance reminded Roose of Sansa. Was it a Stark trait?

"Are you going to kill me?" It came out so quietly that Roose had to strain to hear the words. So, the child was intelligent.

"I haven't decided yet. But for now, I have some questions for you." Rickon swallowed hard. "Where is your brother, Bran?"

"I… don't know… I haven't seen him… since we… we left Winterfell after.. the Ironborn came.." Maybe Ramsay wasn't that useless after all. How then had Rickon Stark ended up back at Winterfell? He doubted it was voluntarily.

"How did you escape?"

"We hid in the crypts until it was safe to come out again." The boy's voice had gained some strength this time.

"Indeed..."

"Please don't kill me." His voice hitched as he spoke and this time Roose did feel pity. Something deep within him stirred and it made him uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable to remain in the room.

* * *

It was early evening when there was a knock at his study door.

"Enter." It was Banefort.

"Lady Bolton is in her chambers." Roose let out a sigh of relief, the longer she had been missing, the more concerned he had become for her safety. He was loathed to admit it but he had been quite worried about her.

"And where was she?"

"The Last River, my lord." For a moment Roose thought he had misheard. He frowned. Banefort nodded. How had Sansa made it that far? He knew she detested riding and he knew she hadn't been practising like he had instructed her to do so. That little act of defiance was something he would address later. For now his main concern was why she thought it acceptable to not greet her lord husband on his return from battle.

"Thank you Banefort. Was she alone?"

"Yes." How could she be that stupid? He was livid. But he wasn't quite sure what had annoyed him more: her defiance or her lack of stupidity in carrying it out. Either way he was livid and it wasn't an anger that was going to be extinguished by fucking her. However tempting it was.

"Thank you, that will be all."

Lord Bolton had considered going straight to their bedchamber but had decided against it. He was going to make her wait, make her fear him and what he was going to do. He knew there was a part of her that still feared him and he intended to use that against her. There was a time and place for her defiance and now he just wanted to break her. So he made her wait. He made her wait several hours, made her wait until after dinner. Roose deliberately ate in his study that evening.

By the time, he finally made it to their bedchamber, the sun had set and night had fallen. Sansa was sleeping softly in the chair in front of the fire, a book lay open on the floor by her feet when he first entered the room. For a moment, he contemplated letting her sleep. But that idea went out the window. No, he wanted to punish her tonight. Instead, he let the door slam behind him and she flinched at the noise before waking from her slumber.

"My lord?" Sansa asked, the shock evident in her voice.

"So, now you want to talk to me?" He sneered.

"My lord?" She asked again, slowly standing up.

"Sansa, I have humoured you this long..." he paused. Her heart was beating rapidly now, she could sense his annoyance and it was scaring her. She had heard the rumours of what had happened to those who had crossed the leech lord… hell she had been a victim of the consequences herself. She was trembling. She hadn't expected him to react in this way. "This game you're playing will stop now."

Game? What game? She wasn't playing any sort of game with him. If anyone was playing games, it was Roose, making her think that he was sorry for killing Robb whilst plotting to kill the rest of her family. The thought of Robb caused something in her to switch and she no longer felt scared of him. She was angry. He had murdered her brother and her mother and was now planning to murder her uncles and her younger brothers, if they were still alive. He did not have the upper hand in this situation. Yes, she was in the wrong but she had a valid reason to do what she did.

"I expect you to behave as the lady you are..." Roose continued menacingly.

"And I expect you to keep your promises." The words came out quietly and Sansa immediately wished they hadn't come out at all when she saw his gaze darken.

"My promises?" He sneered. She looked down at the floor. Tears were threatening to fall and it was taking everything she had to keep them at bay. "What promises, _my lady_?" Sansa kept quiet, her eyes fixated on a spot on the floor. Roose walked towards her, stopped in front of her and took her chin in his hand, forcing Sansa to look at him. He repeated his question just as the first tear escaped down her cheek. His mood softened slightly as he took in her emotional state and he relaxed his grip on her chin. Sansa's however intensified and she finally answered his question.

"On our wedding night, you promised you would not hurt me… do you remember that promise, _my lord_?" Roose frowned, he wasn't quite sure where this conversation was going. "You made that promise whilst plotting with Tywin Lannister to murder my uncles and brothers if they are still alive." her tone was defiant, unwavering. Roose narrowed his eyes, studying her. _Gods he wanted her._ Her fierce spirit made him lust after her in way he never had before; it made want to own her, to have her on her knees in front of him, bent and broken to his will. But there was a more pressing matter: how did she know about that? Had someone in his household betrayed him? Had Ramsay? At least her sudden desire to avoid him made sense.

"I found the missive you received from him… I wasn't spying… not really. I used your study whilst you were away and when I saw Rickon's name, I was curious so I read it." She continued blasély as though her actions were of no consequence. "How dare you?" Her tone had changed. "How dare you raise your banners for your liege lord then when he dies swear an oath to his son, the son who you then killed before marrying his sister whilst plotting to kill the rest of her family!"

"Sansa… stop… now." Roose said, his voice barely above a whisper as he moved his hand from her chin to her wrist. He tightened his hand, holding her in a vice like grip.

"How dare you..." She felt the sting before she heard the sound of the slap come into contact with her face or saw the movement of his hand. She staggered backwards in shock of what he had done and in fear of what he would do next. Sansa had only moved a step or two before Roose pulled her back to him, placing his other hand on her waist and crashing his lips against hers. Sansa was fighting an inner battle as his tongue tried to gain entrance to her mouth; a battle she ultimately lost and before long, Roose's tongue was fighting with hers as she battled to retain her composure. Somehow, Sansa managed to break the kiss and pulled away from him.

"My lord?" She frowned. They stood there for several moments, both breathing heavily, both staring at the other, neither speaking. Roose was daring her to continue, daring her to give in to what she wanted. And she wanted him, she did but she also wanted to be strong, to have this argument with him, to win. She couldn't have both. Before she knew what she was doing, before she had time to make a decision, she walked back towards Roose. He raised an eyebrow in question and Sansa simply nodded. In response, Roose continued his assault on Sansa's mouth, her knees buckling as he pushed her towards the bedroom. He slowly began to unlace her dress lace by lace as led her towards the bed. The speed was excruciatingly slow and Sansa was desperate to be free of the material.

"Please my lord..." The sound of her begging was increasing his arousal and he gave up on the laces, opting instead for his dagger. He quickly sliced the laces down her back, before tearing the material of her body leaving her in only her shift. The dress was discarded in a pool at her feet as he lifted Sansa up and onto the bed. The plush bedding felt soft beneath her as he laid her down gently before his lips trailed kisses along her neck, across her shoulder, slowly down her arm. Sansa reached up to remove his doublet but he caught her arms placing them above her head as he turned his attention to removing the shift. Like the laces, the untying was too intricate, too fiddly and so he cut the ties of the shift before ripping that off her body and discarding it somewhere on the bedroom floor. Again, Sansa tried to even the score but he held her hands in place above her as he placed his lips on her chest laying quick butterfly kisses on her exposed skin before he reached her breasts. She moaned at the contact and arched her back towards him as he took the left in his mouth zigzagging his tongue across the nipple eliciting another sound from the woman beneath him. Desire and lust glowed in his eyes and she knew then that even though she had lost, she had still won. His hands slid down her body until they reached her thighs, he gently pulled them apart as his lips travelled down her body. Sansa moaned again causing Roose to momentarily stop what he was doing and look at her. She stared back at him and smirked; arousal was evident in her eyes and it was turning him on even more. After a few moments, he returned his attention to her body and he fervently pressed kisses on her stomach leaving goose bumps on the skin.

Sansa took his distraction as the opportunity she had been waiting for and she hesitantly reached up and started to unbutton his shirt only to be stopped by his hands. They took over the unbuttoning, causing a loss of contact between them and Sansa moaned in disappointment as his lips left her skin.

"Soon wife."

Before long he too was topless and his roaming mouth returned to her skin. Within minutes it had reached her inner thigh and he softly yet hungrily sucked the delicate skin. A small moan escaped her lips and Roose was disappointed at the lack of response. He sucked harder. After what seemed like too long and a failure at getting a proper reaction from her, he excruciatingly, slowly slid a finger into her folds. She was dripping wet. The touch sent a shiver through her body. In…out.. in… out… in… out…

"It would seem, dear wife, that you have missed your husband." He mused. She blushed and he smirked.

"Perhaps you shouldn't leave your wife on her own for long periods of time…" She replied even she could sense the desperation in her voice.

"It was hardly a long period of time." He replied but she was too distracted by the movement of his finger inside of her to reply with a witty or playful remark.

He responded to her lack of comment by adding another finger to the situation. The two fingers pumped in and out, in and out. Sansa focused her thoughts on the detail of the ceiling above her head as she managed to refrain from moaning in pure elation. She wasn't quite ready for him to know how much she wanted him… how much she had missed having him in her bed. She fought the urge to buck her hips against his fingers knowing that if she responded in such a way, she would be betraying her feelings to him, revealing just how much she enjoyed having sex with him. However all self-control went out the window when Roose changed tactics and added his mouth to the equation. The wet muscle slowly ran across her nub gently caressing it before he sucked so sensuously that all she could focus on was how hard the orgasm would come. Sensing the beginning of the contractions, Roose removed his mouth from her vagina and climbed off her and off the bed leaving her in pleasurable agony. He quickly removed his breeches, flinging them somewhere on the floor before he returned to his very aroused wife. A cry escaped her as his mouth returned to her entrance. His tongue darted out and began licking the folds avoiding the nub. Up and down… up and down… up and down. Sansa was screaming his name louder and louder as his tongue brought her closer and closer to her climax. She was dripping wet. With one final vicious assault, she came.

"Gods…" Roose murmured against her as he watched his young wife writhe in pure ecstasy. He waited several moments for her to recover from her orgasm, orally caressing her breast before he gently slid into her. She gasped as he entered her and his lips brushed her neck trailing a few chaste kisses in their wake. Sansa shuddered and Roose smirked. Sensing her desperation, he moved out of her, the loss of contact causing her to sigh in frustration before re-entering her. The touch sent a shiver through her body as he pumped in and out of her.

"Please, my lord…" Sansa breathed, begging him to give her a second release. He pulled out before going in deeper. She gasped. He thrust in and out of her, his speed and depth increasing with each thrust. She was screaming his name so loudly, begging for her release that it was bringing him close to his own orgasm. Before long, her second came. The contractions bringing him even so closer to his own. He was trying not to lose control as he continued his thrusts in and out… in and out.

Within minutes, her body squeezed around him again. He was determined to not lose control just yet but her screaming his name and the look in her eyes made it near impossible as she stared up at him; her eyes filled with the same lust present in his. She was still trembling from her previous contractions when a new set began and he prayed to whichever gods were listening that she climaxed before him as his own became more intense. Finally he came, filling her inside with his juices. The magnitude of the sensation engulfed her in a world of elation and brought on her third orgasm. Sansa was still trembling when she came for the third time, shortly after he had climaxed. He pulled out of her and rolled onto his back beside her pulling the furs around their naked bodies. Roose pulled her towards him and she settled in his arms, leaning back against his torso.

Neither spoke for a while, the sound of their ragged breathing the only noise against the silent night as they revelled in what had been an intense, anger filled but incredibly pleasurable fuck.

When Sansa's breathing had returned to normal and she was finally able to speak, she broached the subject that had been conveniently misplaced from her mind by her husband's mouth.

"You broke your promise." She whispered into the dark. Roose tensed behind her and she froze, suddenly fearful of what his reaction would be.

"I haven't… not yet."

"Will you?" She asked, fearful of the answer and immediately wishing she hadn't.

"If I do, it will be for the benefit of our family." His answer was vague and didn't offer Sansa any comfort. If anything, it put her more on edge and so she changed the subject slightly.

"Is my uncle alive?" Again, she felt his whole body tense.

"Edmure Tully is alive, he is a prisoner of Lord Frey I believe and the Blackfish is in Riverrun defending it against the Frey's army who are laying siege to it, I believe." Sansa was grateful for his honesty. "If Walder Frey asks for my assistance in besieging Riverrun, I will grant him it." He continued before placing a gentle kiss to her temple.

"And Bran and Rickon?" She asked, pulling away from his embrace and turning to face him.

"Sansa.." she narrowed her eyes at him. "As far as I know, they are both dead… they were killed by Theon Greyjoy. Now, enough of this, go to sleep." He said. She nodded, lying back down into his embrace and he placed another kiss to her forehead. "We can continue this conversation tomorrow if we must."

It was some time before Roose was finally able to sleep. His mind was in deep debate about Rickon Stark. He had decided that the boy had to die and then he had seen the hurt and desperation in Sansa's eyes. Now he was questioning whether killing him was the right thing to do. But what other options did he have? Could he realistically keep the boy locked in the dungeons beneath the Dreadfort for the rest of his life? Was killing Rickon Stark not the easiest and best option for himself, Sansa and their future?


End file.
